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Sculpture images: Jeannel King

Oogway and Po image sourced from https://images.app.goo.gl/CeM6budSEhX36btx8

Po image sourced from https://images.app.goo.gl/WgXvK5P7Q1JCP82KA

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Do I accept? Not quite. While drawn to the Sacred, I see myself as mundane.

Am I open to the possibility? Yes. I see everything as a manifestation of the sacred, so why not myself? The Sacred Peach Tree of Heavenly Wisdom is literally growing through and bursting through me, nurtured and fed by my flesh and my spirit.

Does anything need to happen to make a thing or a person special? Just an opening and blossoming of perspective...

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I think of my flesh as just some peach. What becomes possible when I embrace my existence as the fruit and flower of the Sacred Peach Tree of Heavenly Wisdom? What becomes necessary for me to even be able accept this idea of myself?

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Po:  "Oh! Is that what this is? I'm so sorry! I just thought it was a regular peach tree!"

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Po:  "Oh! Is that what this is? I'm so sorry! I just thought it was a regular peach tree!"

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Master Oogway: "I see you have found the Sacred Peach Tree of Heavenly Wisdom!"

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Master Oogway: "I see you have found the Sacred Peach Tree of Heavenly Wisdom!"

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Looking at my tiny sculpture, I see Frida Kahlo blending body and nature in expressions of physical pain, which I do feel.

However, this thought is quickly replaced by a memory of a scene from the 2008 film, Kung Fu Panda:

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My left hand reaches for the rectangles of clay, unwrapping them awkwardly and taking small pinches from the various blocks. My moves are small, protecting my right arm, and a tiny version of my right hand and forearm emerges from the clay. I give the top of my clay wrist an incision where my surgery occurred and pull the space open. A peach pit wants to rest within my wrist's orifice. Slowly, I spin greens together to create a growing plant. I pinch white and red together to create a large peach blossom and tiny blooms on the plant bursting forth from my dominant wrist. But this growth is still too small, something larger supports it beneath my arm. I infuse dark brown with swaths of red and fashion a large peach pit, rimmed in red, surrounded by juicy yellow flesh and contained within a peach skin. The peach's stem reaches under my wrist and bursts through its orifice with leaves in bloom.

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Gentle movement and gentle music while cradling my cast like a child, I send energy into the incision in my wrist. A seed has been removed yet something else grows. What keeps it back? Nourishment, my mind flashes. I hover my left hand over my right wrist in its cast and send it energy. In an instant, a flourishing peach tree bursts forth in full bloom.

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Small rectangles of plastic-wrapped clay sit on the table before me as I ponder which question to meditate upon: what seed is taking root? What blocks my creativity? What needs me to give it voice? My dominant wrist recovers from surgery, and I am keenly aware that I will be working in clay with one hand literally tied behind my back.

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Baked clay sculpture, 5" X 5". Peach half sprouting through right wrist to new growth with peach blossoms. Created with non-dominant (left) hand in San Diego, California, on March 9, 2020.