an excerpt

My great friend Eva put in to words the happenings of her heart as of late. As we go to the craft fairs, as we see the uniqueness of people and their talents, as we examine their wares and get lost in their art... as we explore the community... something is stirring.  As we meet the variety of people and see how different we all are, yet all so full of promise, I am sensing something more. And as we have been researching different venues and events, the excitement grows. Excitement not just for what we can become involved in, but excitement for the movement we see happening in this generation on a wider scale. And even though I didn't appreciate the little voice of one of the indie-artist she references, I love the revelations she partially evoked.  

From Eva's "home sweet home":

Driving around the other day, I had some deep thoughts as I was listening to a mixed CD my loving lil' sister made me. As the charming, unpolished notes of various indie-sounding musicians calmed me and the rain fell gently, I started thinking about how much beauty there is in the imperfection of humanity. What is it, I asked myself, that makes you look for the places in the painting where you can clearly see the brush strokes - the work of the artists hand? What is it that makes husbands think their wives look beautiful first thing in the morning with no makeup and messy hair? 

My mind traveled on to AMEN Handmade, and how we love things to look worn, flawed, one of a kind. There's also a major uprising going on right now (ucc) of young crafters (renegade) and artists (capsule) who share the same feeling, selling wobbly, almost childlike drawings, and lopsided craft-monsters, funky felted purses where you can see the stitching, and clothing with raw edges exposed. EXPOSED. That's the key word, I think. There's something in all of these experiences that lets you into the secret little world of the person who made it. Somehow you feel that you've gotten to see a glimpse of their honest soul - the inmost part of their creative heart, and that..... that is something precious. More precious than ever in this world of  quick notes and backward glances, top eight friends and wall-to-walls.

Last weekend at the poorly attended Paso Robles Digital Film Festival, Ann and I were lucky enough to get situated next to a man with a positive attitude. A silversmithing storyteller.  And, he told us a good one as we were about to pack up and go home. In the story of the "Cracked Pot", a water carrier took water in two jugs back to his master's house time after time. One perfect pot, and one cracked. The cracked one was very ashamed of it's flaw, and always apologizing, until the water carrier helped it to see that it was watering flowers all along the roadside each time it was carried, and that the flowers were known throughout the land for their beauty.

Maybe the parts of us that are different are ready to be shared, and maybe what the world sees as awkward or flawed is actually just the intricate and beautiful work of the master's hand?

So, I am not sure why I am writing this (or crying about it), but I know there is something in all of us that longs to connect... to really know and be known. I will end with this verse, which has been a particular treasure to me of late:

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Cor 13:12