If these walls could talk..
Ha, so many stories behind these walls !
Rain and sunshine 
caressing lives 
dreams and sorrow 
bullet proof shelters 
guarding souls 
for centuries. 

   







Tiger Aloe and My Favorite
          Necklace

On the quiet synergy between ceramics, jewelry, and the plant kingdom.

Summer has arrived, and my beloved tiger aloe (Gonialoe variegata) is finally in bloom.
Each morning, I wake to its extraordinary display of color-a delicate dance of pale sky blue dissolving into warm oranges and buttery yellows. Every blossom reminds me of a melting popsicle, sweet and luminous. Delicious.
For weeks I admired it without realizing that I had encountered this exact harmony of color and form before. Then one morning, while catching my reflection in the mirror, I looked at my favorite necklace and gasped.
It was an exact match.
The same gentle blues, the same glowing oranges, the same joyful transition of color. My necklace and my tiger aloe were quietly mirroring one another, as though they had always belonged together and had simply been waiting for me to notice.

In Buddhism, there is a word that comes to mind: drala-the magic of ordinary things. As Chögyam Trungpa taught, we are already in the magic. It is found in the inherent wisdom, beauty, and aliveness of everyday life.

The true practice is noticing.

To celebrate this small revelation, I made a vase. I gave myself permission to experiment-with new glazes and a new clay body. The coarse grog of Soldate clay, usually reserved for raku and pit firing, felt like digging directly into the earth itself.
Every handful connected me to the soil from which both clay and plants emerge.

The glazes carried names that felt like poetry:
Papaya, Sunrise, Tiger Eye, Fuzzy Peach, Shallot, and Bougainvillea. Their colors echoed the blossoms outside my window, guiding each decision at the wheel and in the glaze room. It felt less like choosing colors and more like continuing a conversation that nature had already begun.
When the vase was finished, I placed it on the windowsill beside my blooming tiger aloe. Then, with a smile, I introduced my necklace to my plant, as if they were old friends finally meeting.For a few quiet days, my corner of the world felt lighter.

Sometimes inspiration doesn't arrive with thunder or grand revelations. Sometimes it blooms on a windowsill, hangs around your neck, or waits patiently inside a lump of clay until you are ready to see the connection.
Perhaps that is the real magic-not extraordinary moments, but ordinary ones that suddenly reveal how beautifully everything belongs together..




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