Wild Clay in Nepal

I write this to you from the foothills of the Himalayas, six months pregnant and sipping lemongrass tea in the afternoon sun.

It’s the final days of a chilly mountain winter here, and the sun is sifting through the early morning mists as we wait for the rain that breaks the cold weather each year and signals the start of a new season of warmth. We’re quietly watching each sunrise, each sunset over some of the highest mountains in the world, and breathlessly hiking around in the clean air and altitude; napping and reading and writing a lot.

It’s a delight, in every sense of the word.

Perhaps, a world away from my Sydney ceramic studio, for a few weeks.

Before Covid brought us static, I spent many moons in Nepal. It’s joyous to be here with my partner as I grow our first child and we spend quiet afternoons laying by the fire, feeling their first kicks together through my belly, slowly welcoming them into our little family with each jolt of life.

I’ve learnt many, many life lessons in these mountains.

One of my favourite Nepali proverbs is ‘Our hands wash each other’.

I’m reminded here that fifty million people live in territory the size of the state of Victoria in Australia, in often very challenging conditions. Despite this - perhaps, importantly - becauseof this - the sense of community and togetherness and camaraderie I always feel here is like nowhere else in the world.

I’m reminded that my humble hands and some earth are able to create pieces that allow us all to celebrate special moments together with our loved ones.