About

Against popular belief, I ain't the Mudman.

The name originates from a section of scripture that has haunted me forever. 
John 9...

...he [Jesus] spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes. ⁷ “Go,” he told him, “wash in the Pool of Siloam” (this word means “Sent”). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing.

In this story, Jesus heals a man born blind by spitting in the mud and rubbing it on his eyes.

Wild huh! Did he get any rocks in his eyes?

I don't know why this has stuck with me, but I find myself excavating more and more meaning from it over time.

For one, I'm amazed that Jesus had the courage to engage the sick and poor in a time when they were considered dirt. But I think what hits deeper is that He healed everyone differently. And sometimes in wildly bizarre fashion. It's almost like He could see inside each person.

Even wilder, it says...

² His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” ³ “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.

I always want a perfect explanation for my pain, like I'm owed a cosmic bow I can tie around it. Maybe it's not always that easy, but it is simple... So other can experience real love.

I hope, my friend, that you can feel the love that I have put into my pots. Love that I hope get's shared, with you and the world.

From dust we came, and to dust we will return. Let's enjoy it!

Thanks for reading :)