My empty bowl
Posted by Simon Parke, 23 January 2018, 5.29am
I have an empty bowl; baked clay painted turquoise.
I brought it back from the Greek island of Rhodes; it was a last-day-of-the-holiday purchase.
It could perhaps hold four apples.
But it has always been empty; I have never wished it to hold anything…other than space.
And sometimes when the world and its noise is crowding me out, I hold it… I simply hold it and allow it to offer me back the inner space I have lost.
It’s a starting again.
It may take a while, but it is a healing transaction.
Without space, there is neither tenderness nor insight; and while the world must trample through me - like wildebeests on a charge - it is best it does not stay.
It is best that all and everything are evicted and space is restored…present space, with neither history nor future…a detox from control freakery, anxiety…from being meaninglessly swamped by swirling feelings and concerns.
And so my empty bowl, which has never become a practical holder of anything.
(The idea of it being full of clutter or useful disturbs me.)
Rather, it is a pottery prophet of space, and simply held, restorative to my fragile soul.
My shallow breathing deepens…quiet inner clearance, like a crowd leaving a stadium.
We tend the space… and the space tends everything else.