log 003
the morning arrived earlier than planned, carried by my baby’s restlessness, as if she already knew the day needed air. the house felt too small for her curiosity, so we stepped outside and let the world meet us halfway. walking became permission, errands became excuses to stay moving, and time loosened its hold the longer we stayed out. when we came home, i cleaned her gently into sleep, the way you lower something precious into quiet, and borrowed the silence she left behind.
i turned to clay the way i turn to thought—slowly, with intention, knowing it might resist me. some pieces from last week had cracked, split open without apology, revealing the places where i hurried, where my hands moved faster than my patience. gyoza cooled nearby, christmas gifts waited to become something meaningful, and i realized how much of making is really about listening. to pressure. to timing. to when something needs to rest instead of being fixed.
the day didn’t resolve itself neatly, but it didn’t need to. there was enough—enough walking, enough breaking, enough beginning again. i’m learning that meaning doesn’t always come from finishing, but from staying present while things are still becoming. traces of being.
p.s. i keep thinking about how many things survive simply because we let them rest.
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