We’re not too different, this bowl and I.

We were built tough, and with utility in mind. Able to stand (pun intended) the test of time. Made by a Creator who intentionally molded us into something that mattered (pun also intended). Something the earth kneaded. We’re polished, yet imperfect, chipped - cracked even, but we can still hold stuff.

We’re not too different, this bowl and I.

I, too, am a vessel - Yet I'm filled over and over again with a proverbial ‘living water’. A container, full of love. I pour out without fear of running out, because in my source i’ve found a well that never runs dry. Should this bowl ever escape her cage, perhaps she, once again, can be filled.

We’re not too different, this bowl and I.

We’ve both got feet. Feet allow us to stand. Feet allow us - well, me- to walk. She was a mirror today, reflecting back at me what it looks like to be equipped with the right features to act, but to stand still. A bowl with feet that does not walk, is like a bird with wings that does not fly. Have you ever seen a bird walk? It’s oddly comical and grossly inefficient. I can hear my creator telling me, much like he’d tell the bird: “I created you to fly, so fly”. 

Much like this bowl I have a womb, an ability to produce, that is currently full of nothing more than potential. She lives in a glass box, but I live in a glass prison of self-imposed fragility and invisible boundaries. She reminded me today that these walls I've built in my mind are stopping me from producing! I’ve been sitting in a glass prison cell to which I also hold the key. I’m choosing today to use my feet to move. Meanwhile, she’s been standing still for over 5,500 years. Although, maybe, just maybe, that is ultimately what she was created to do. We all have a purpose right? Maybe hers was to move me. And maybe mine is to move you.

We’re not so different, this bowl and I.