Does no-mind practice prepare us for things to come?

Monday as I was being wheeled out of my colonoscopy and upper endoscopy, the nurse said, "Your CAT scan results (from Friday) were not normal, you need to make an appointment to talk to the Dr. about it."

Four years ago in the Tucson Museum of Art studio, a young man and I spent a very no-mind season of clay art childishly practicing destruction with our work. He built deteriorating cities. I made a large series of pieces in which I systematically added more and more kinds of things to the clay that would burn out in the kiln, leaving holes, porousity, and eventually a lacy skeleton of clay with paper-thin edges. I was exploring how much you could take away from a thing and have it still be the thing. As time went on in this exploration, I began paying more attention to the inclusions, which would leave a shape or identity behind in their space. I even began to color the burnables so that they would leave color behind. At the time, I was responding to the landscape of the desert, which of course, like any natural topography, is the landscape of everything. It was the most satisfying series of clay pieces I have ever done.

I am grateful for that season on a day like Monday.