Try This at Home

Claytime

I don’t know clay besides the red stuff
that stood for soil where I grew up.
I have to ask the clerk
what kind, color, resiliency
the temp at which it can be baked
like the ovenset for my poppyseed cake.
I only know I want to feel it in my hands
SQUEEZE it between my fingers
push and pull
shape and mold some form or figure, godlike
into animals, mountains, trees, human
beings in all their various shapes and sizes.
I buy a DK book on animals of the world
and begin, sitting at a card table
with my friend.
She is an artist, a real artist
who still knows how to play, judgement-free with me
together, yet independently.
She shapes roly-poly pigs, a bear and sheep
who appear to me to be perfectly created.
I tackle grizzlies, alligators, bats, giraffes.
I don’t know how hard these are to make
with all their lines and angles, curves and indentations.
I don’t care about my finished products’ imperfections.
I just pull the clay and round it
fingertip balls until they resemble heads,
poke eyes, pinch ears.
My animals are creations by a god who loves a taffy pull;
elongated Salvador Dalis; people reminiscient of “The Scream,”
only calm and happy in their misconfigurations.

Each time I pick a brand new critter
Jane’s eyebrows raise
because she can’t believe I would even try
to replicate the thing:
a blackbird spreading wing,
a hawk diving for its prey.
Her proportions turn out wonderfully
she practices until she gets it right.
Meanwhile mine continue to emerge like laundry
squished between the rollers
of an old-time wringer washer.
But I’m contented as a clam
as long as I can make them stand
thumb their sinewed muscles into shape
stroke a face or mend a hand
into something that resembles grace.

Mendy Knott Jan. 2005



Try This at Home

Never underestimate the power of a well-known Buddhist concept called “beginner’s mind.” In America we sometimes call this “beginner’s luck.” Basically the same principle applies. When no one has told you that you CAN’T do something--perform onstage, write a poem, paint a watercolor, make a clay pot--quite often you find that you CAN. Since nobody has told you how hard it’s going to be or that it’s downright impossible, you approach the process with openess and ingenuity. There is no rigid set of rules to follow. Instead, you wander rather blindly, albeit happily, into an act of creation and make something wonderfully authentic simply because your pleasure , your joy is in the play of it.

Beginner’s mind is a beautiful part of Creation’s plan which allows us to try something totally intimidating because we’re ignorant of all that can go wrong. Like having children, if we really knew how much pain and agony would be involved, we might never have any--and there goes the species! Sometimes we forget how hard it is and little Charlie gets a baby Polly to play with.

This is the way it needs to be each time we set out to create--it is new! It has never been done before by you and therefore it won’t, can’t be the same as anyone else’s. Disregard what others tell you about how hard it will be. Ignore all nay-sayers. Here at the beginning, having fun will keep you working long after determination and stubborness have worn down to grit. Not even the promise of fame and fortune can do what real pleasure in the process can do for you. It’s the only way to complete a project and still be enjoying yourself. And why shouldn’t we enjoy our work, our art? All suffering should be short-lived or non-existent.

The first creative writing I did after 15 years away from writing of any kind, was to write a novel. That’s right. I wrote a 350-page novel before I had written a short story, a poem, or even a class paper. I could do this because nobody told me I couldn’t. I was well-read. I knew the genre. I figured I could tell a long story just as good as the next fella. I simply didn’t know any better and I had a great time. I learned a lot, but the most important thing I learned was that I loved what I was doing and I wrote a book--all by myself. It was an incredible feeling.

Do this: Pick an art form that you always thought you might enjoy but have never tried. Make it something that doesn’t require a lot of money--use Sculpy, inexpensive water-colors and brushes, pencil and paper to draw or write. Try out for a part in a community theater play. Join a choir or chorus. Buy a harmonica. Decide to prepare a gourmet meal for your date or your boss...or maybe just your mom first. Don’t think about it long. Dive right in! Work hard at playing. Don’t forsee the future. It’s all about staying in the moment and getting messy with your materials. Experiment. Believe you can do anything you want with what you’ve got, then do it. Just do it.