Joey showed me two mugs she had made in ceramics class the other day.  She had been talking about these fantastic mugs for about three weeks now and not because of the amazing way they looked or the great painting job.
No, she talked about them non-stop because they represented the concept of Man vs. Nature.  One mug was blue with grey dull-looking houses with empty soul-less windows.  The other was the same blue but it seemed brighter.  Thick vibrant vines and healthy green leaves curled around its circumfrance, smooth and round to the other mug’s harsh barren landscape.
“They didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted,” she said as I turned the Nature Mug over in my hands, examining it from every angle.
“They’re great!”  I relpied, being supportive.
“The nature one was supposed to be better.”  As she said this I realized that I had been drawn the orderly squares of the Man Mug and was also disappointed by the Nature Mug, disappointed that it wasn’t something more.
Was I wrong to expect more?  Was I wrong to be so attracted to the mug representing mankind?   I know what it wrong, so what is inside me telling me that it’s beautiful?

From the world of the not-so-ordinary,



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