... and Thursdays are for

Just as Tuesdays are for wood turning, Thursdays are for pottery. Only now, having finished six weeks of hand building with clay, we are learning to paint - pleasant things like bamboo and lotus flowers. This, too, brings its own satisfaction as the classes take place in an old Cajun cottage, restored to house a pottery shop and museum. The history still lives in the cypress boards of the walls and floors - a history of hard working days and warm family nights.

The teacher is a transplanted Brit, with a patient and gentle teaching style, sprinkled with subtle humor, just a hint of mischief, and always a love and passion for his art. In the background are soft, musical tones designed to soothe and relax and by my right hand, just far enough from range to not be mistaken for the water bowl, is a plastic glass of homemade beer. This evening it is a nut brown ale brought to class for us to try by one of the class members.

When it comes time for us to practice, I dip my brush in the black ink and practice the strokes ... and practice the strokes ... and practice the strokes. I don't even pause to wonder what the world is doing. And I don't feel at all guilty for doing nothing to change it. This is my contribution, such as it is. I find places to feel at peace with myself. In this way I am able to be more at peace with others.

Perhaps I sound like one of those older women who have too much time and too little focus. You know, the sort who failed to become deeply entrenched in the world of work and climb the ladder to success.

The sort who chose instead to pursue endeavors that brought with them emotional and personal rewards.

The sort of woman who, upon reaching a certain age, begins to question the direction her life has taken and comes to the not unpleasant realization that the choices, overall, have been good.

The sort who believes the best is yet to come, and it is still unlikely to be found in the pursuit of monetary reward.

The sort who is becoming more herself and less a stranger every day.

I guess I might have made something more of myself. I guess I might have earned more money or achieved more notice or gained more prestige.

On the other hand ... I guess not.