Art feeds my soul. I received a creative writing assignment to write about a teapot at the retreat I went to a couple weeks ago. (Thanks Allyson) Was inspired to finished it this week!
Everybody goes through a funk now and then, where the inside of you doesn’t feel like it matches the outside. This quirky poetic story revealed itself to me as I allowed my imagination to re-plug into my creative juice. Onward towards those things that make you shine bright, feel alive, and bless others. *PG 13 for language
It’s really hard to move when you don’t have actual feet. Hopping up the sand dune hill on my single footed porcelain base with decoupage flowered body, I hate flowers by the way, I abruptly halt. My lid clatters along the rim of my brain. I see a three hundred sixty degree view of perfect blue sky meeting a thin, crispy, dark-lined horizon. Vanilla colored sand stretches out as far as I can see. With no breeze, an abyss of church silence, and the smell of the sun baking my white flowery shell, my desire to go one more hop is almost gone. When will this god-forsaken desert end?! I’m lost, thirsty as hell, and insanely lonely.
I’m on week five hopping out of this dessert. Fuck. I can‘t remember how I got here and I’ll die if I stop now. I’m acutely aware I’ve got one last drop of water in me. The paint has peeled off what I used to call eyes; the two dots I have left keep scanning the horizon for something, anything that’s different. The horizon dances in the heat taunting me to flop over and fly the white flag. Hearing a mirage of trumpets playing taps, I start spinning around and around to locate them. “Ouch, ouch, OUCH!” My spout and handle hurt and feel like peanut brittle that could snap with one more wrong move. My belly aches for the water dancing from that silver long necked source. I’m supposed to be steeping tea to provide relaxation. I’m supposed to be giving water to little girls in fancy imitation tea parties. I am supposed to be able to give… give anything. Give everything. Offer life giving water! A resolute shield forms around my last morsel of hope. Must. Keep. Going.
I hop one hop at a time when my energy recharges. It’s taking longer and longer. The sun snickers at my dying attempts as it plays I spy and passes 10, 11, 2, and 5. Night is coming. A reprieve.
Pointing my spout upwards, I sip in water I imagine that’s in the air. With a dry scratchy giggle, I change direction and do it again. Ha ha ha… I’m losing my lid! Laughing out loud now, I try it again. Hopping around in circles, I inhale and blow out green, pink, and blue, bubbles, sparkles, polka dots, and confetti. Twirling faster and faster with a strange feeling of doom, I let out a huge devilish snort. I see a funny shaped black thing. Double blinking and twice more, it doesn’t disappear.
This one has a life of it’s own.
The dark shape is gliding above me now at about 15 feet and playfully dive bombs me rolling me to my side. Springing up onto my base and preparing to fight, a shiny black feather drops at my feet. My bleary eyes finally focus. A spectacular fat raven circles above me in the sky cawing the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. The continual cawing excites me over the moon. I start having seizures of hopping and hoarsely screaming, “SOS. Pick me up. Stop! I need help. Pleeeeeasssse land!”
It flies off at high speed and my hopping just can’t keep up with it. Over and over I yell in a whispery raspy voice, “Wait! Come back! Don’t leave me! Take me with you!” Running out of steam, I fall spout down in the sand sobbing, weeping, and wailing from that place where deep grief lives. Water poured out of my eyes.
Wait! Water!! There is water is IN me. How can I capture it?! Heaving heavy sighs until I am laughing hysterically, I start tossing my tears into the sky and capturing them in my spout. I dance and twirl on my one footed base until my stomach hurts from my strange laughter and crying. My eyes relax; I have collected enough water in my belly to continue my desert escape.
With new intent, I squint in the direction the raven flew; night is starting to settle. In a dazed stare, three yellow squares vaporize out of the darkness. Rapidly shaking my head back and forth, I smell a wisp of wood smoke. My heart leaps out of my teapot!
The energy of a dozen horses powers me. I start hopping gingerly toward the hope of those lighted windows. Anxiety filled me knowing this discovery would bring change. In my teapot gut though, I know I can impact the scale of that change if I move toward that light.
Blog by Mary Riitano...
I'm a Montana actress on a journey sharing my heart and growth through blogging, stories, and poetry, I have faith you'll find empowerment and inspiration to create like a champion in your own life!
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