Change

The joy on the faces of the young and old alike as they bent and twisted the clay to the image of a head, the joy of creative play.  But then the word was called: change.  And the slight moment of critical assessment as they receive the partially completed sculpture from the left hand reluctantly, or is that proudly, it is so difficult to tell the difference, as the old sculpture moves to the right hand.  And then fifteen minutes of work, manipulating, stretching, beings joy to the face until the word is called again: change 

What is the best me that I can be this week.  Is it the me that will make me the happiest, the one that makes a list of things to be completed, things that will make my day easier, or achievements that will give me satisfaction, and then work as hard as I can to get them done.  Or is it the me that cares and loves and listens to those about me and thinks about nice things to do for those folk with the hope of living a shared joy.

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