Children? That question has never really crossed my mind. My mother always said that we were the greatest gift she had ever received. And so we were. That is how we grew up: naturally loved, with the awareness that life is meant to be lived. Sadly, she passed away too soon. When she was no longer there, it felt as if the ground beneath our feet had disappeared. But it was up to us, my sisters and me, to carry the torch forward.
I have never doubted that we were the greatest gift she had ever received. With that conviction, I stepped into my own life: family, work, love — without much hesitation.
Yet I increasingly hear women expressing doubt about motherhood, as if emancipation has taken something away rather than added to it. As if there must first be certainty, control, and completion before you are allowed to begin living.
But when does that moment ever truly arrive? Life cannot be ticked off a list. It asks us to step in, to begin, to build while nothing is yet fixed, and to accept that the less pleasant sides are part of it as well.
In that context, I developed the “art of receiving” within a collaborative partnership. Six “children” emerged from it. The attention embedded in the process of creation, and the dynamic with the co-creator of the concept, had a positive effect. It felt almost like a form of parenting. It was about building and consciously creating something meaningful. Not just working to live, but working to create. That is what made life so valuable. The gift of life is too precious to waste.
Meet my ceramic children, a project in collaboration with performance coaching. Not children of flesh and blood, but ideas and initiatives that require attention, responsibility, dedication, and acceptance.
