The longer the gap between my posts, the harder it is to finally write one, because I get inundated with the varied possibilities of each post: shall I talk about pottery, the new hobby I sort of stumbled (or did I leap) into? shall I talk about our recent profound discussions at book club, about suicide and happiness? or the fact that at a class discussion tonight, we revisited this topic and S shared about her friend surviving a recent ordeal and being glad to be alive? This lady apparently has three kids and I remember marveling how there's no telling what makes someone happy or otherwise. You hear of someone going into depression and getting divorced for not being able to have children, and then you hear of a mother with three children on the brink of suicide. It's mind-boggling.
And then I think of walking home from pottery class the other day, by my lonesome, feeling unbelievably good and happy. Alhamdulillah. Feeling so happy with how much I've grown, how much I've learnt to nurture myself and live in the world as the human being I aspire to be, to have faith and look towards goodness (the clouds of goodness I'm always waiting to rain on me! the retrospectively prophetic name of this space). I have been feeling eternally grateful and somewhat in awe that I have been allowed to feel this way or have this space; this space to be okay. To be okay, Alhamdulillah.
It just feels really nice to work on something with my hands; I just felt the need to do that at some level. It's been really therapeutic, I think. I'm about to splurge more $$$ on tools etc., and god knows how I will obtain an endless amount of clay to play with once my official classes are done. But essentially, the quiet art work is just... something necessary to my well-being, I feel. It's been really good... grounding? Maybe. Inevitably, I also remember my brief stints in art club or art classes when I was younger, and wonder what would have happened if I'd been allowed to pursue this side of my inclinations instead. Typically, everything I do or work with most of my life, even for fun, has been exceedingly cerebral; to be whole, one has to be rounded and delve into those corners too long ignored.
To bring this back around...
what is happiness? An eternally-debated philosophical question, certainly. I'm just glad that I'm developing some skill or perhaps a reflection, that I can choose to be happy. To realise every day that I am alive. To be glad to have faith, the oft-taken-for-granted soul-replenishing element. To look to the pregnant clouds, happily waiting for rain.
It's been raining heavily too these few days!
And we were hoping to walk the Rail Corridor tomorrow.
Ja!
