Stretch out your hands, hold them there for a moment feeling.
We spend most of our lives collecting things.
Yet there is a joy to be had in what we can create and share with these hands.
I have been a bodyworker much of my life, sculpting bodies, moulding muscle. And when I see a potter at the wheel, throwing a pot, my heart sings.

Years ago, in Tiruvannamalai, I was surprised by a beggar who stood up. He had been sitting unnoticed by the roadside, indistinguishable from the earth, almost black. I watched as he gracefully rose and took form. It was a beautiful moment of rememberence for me.
I too am made of earth, a lump of moulded clay!