PurpleLama@AOL.COM on fri 15 aug 03
I have always LOVED shells. I can remember picking them up as a child. I was
fillled with a sense of wonder and beauty. My sibs and I would take home the
big shells for our dad to use as ashtrays. I don't know that he every really
used them, but I remember taking them home for him year after year. While I now
remember the shells for their fascination and beauty, I'm sure I was like
other children and brought home pieces of shells, shells with cracks, etc.
Then for many years, I was very critical about the shells I would bring home.
Whole shells only. No holes, no cracks, no imperfections. Somehow, I have a
feeling my mother influenced my definition of what was an acceptable shell. It
might have originally been a way to reduce the number of shells I brought
home, but I embraced the perfect shells only imperative.
Then in my late 40's, I contracted something called Guillian Barre (sp)
syndrome. In a matter of days, I had gone from an active person who walked very
quickly and took two steps at a time, to one who could barely shuffle down the
street. (while I rarely take 2 steps at a time now, I am back to walking
quickly) I ended up taking a 6 week leave of absence from work. But, more
importantly, during the illness I reflected on my life and made some changes. Some were
conscious and some were not.
That illness led to many things, including finally taking a clay class. I
hadn't made the connection until now, but it appears that another consequence of
the illness is that I started looking at shells differently. I was suddenly
drawn to shell pieces, not just "perfect" shells. Sometimes the pieces had the
most beautiful colors; sometimes their shapes were fascinating; and after I
got into clay, sometimes I thought about how I could use the pieces as stamps on
my clay pieces. It seems that my sense of childhood wonder has returned - at
least as far as shells go.
Shula
in sunny Redondo Beach, CA
Mel wrote:
> //and, what is the most complex job in the world?
> SHELLING.
> you walk the beach, pick up a shell, make
> a very complex decision...like `should i keep this one?`
> throw it down, pick up another.
> `oh, i will keep this one`.
> then look for another.
> complexity is beyond this simple task.
> `what if i kept an ugly shell?` or, is there such
> a thing?
> you see, the opinions of the world, the philosophies of the
> world and the politics and religions of the world are tied
> to shelling.
> is it good or bad? or, it is MY choice, and my opinion is always RIGHT.
> and, if you do not accept my opinion, i will HURT you.
> we even have some of those folks on clayart.
> mel
> to pick up a shell and admire it, is as natural as looking
> into a fire. no one has to be taught these wondrous things.//
>
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