Before the Naming — A World That Is Alive
There is a way of seeing
in which nothing is still,
nothing is inert,
nothing is without voice.
In the old stories, everything speaks.
Stones hum. Trees listen. Objects move of their own accord.
I have always felt this—
not as an idea, but as a quiet knowing.
And yet somewhere along the way,
we are taught to call this way of seeing imagination.
Projection.
An old story we no longer believe.
But what if it is still true?
What if it is a remembering.
The Thin Line That Was Never There
We have tried to draw a line—
between living and non-living,
animate and inanimate.
But the line does not hold.
The breath that moves through you—alive or not?
The water that forms you—alive or not?
The moon that moves the tides of your body—alive or not?
Remove anything from its relationships
and it appears still.
Isolated.
Object-like.
Return it to the field—
and it reveals itself as part of a vast, moving continuum.
This is something I return to often in my own work—
this softening of boundaries,
this listening for where life is still moving
even when we’ve been taught not to see it.
DS Clayworks Ellipse Ritual Bowl
The Trouble with “Objects”
Object.
Thing.
Words that flatten.
That sever.
That forget.
To call something an object
is to remove it from its story—
from the hands that shaped it,
the elements that formed it,
the life it continues to participate in.
And in many ways, this is what we have done—
to materials, to land, to the things we live with.
But there are no objects here.
Only relationships.
Only continuities.
Only forms of life we are learning, again, how to feel.
There is a growing recognition—even within material culture studies—
that what we call “objects” are not passive at all,
but active participants in the worlds they inhabit. (see Objects Are Alive, in The Cambridge Handbook of Material Culture Studies)
Stone — The First Body
Before vessel, before form—
there is stone.
Stone that remembers fire.
Stone that becomes structure, conductor, carrier.
We call them inanimate,
and build our entire lives from them.
We hold them in our hands all day—
glass, metal, silicon—
listening, speaking, exchanging.
Talking to stones.
Our modern oracles.
Stone has always been speaking.
Some research now begins to echo what the old stories have always held—
that early human cultures did not imagine a living world,
they lived within it, (see The Neolithic Mind)
Clay — The Living Earth
And then—
there is clay.
Earth softened by water.
Mineral made receptive.
Across cultures, across time,
again and again, we are told:
We come from clay.
This has always resonated deeply for me—
not as metaphor, but as something felt in the body.
Remembered.
Clay that forms.
Clay that responds.
Clay that holds.
A material that is not passive,
but participatory.
A living earth that invites relationship.
There are even strands within contemporary science that begin to suggest
that life may have first gathered itself in clay—
mineral surfaces quietly guiding the formation of complexity.
Those Who Never Forgot
There are traditions that never lost this knowing.
Where clay is greeted.
Fed.
Listened to.
Where vessels are not simply made,
but entered into.
Where the kiln is a threshold.
Where transformation is witnessed, not forced.
In many Indigenous traditions, pottery remains a living practice—
carrying lineage, spirit, and relationship across generations. (see Grounded in Clay: The Spirit of Pueblo Pottery)
This lineage of relationship is something I feel immense reverence for—
and something I hold with care in the work of MAMA LOUX.
DS CLAYWORKS Earth Smudge Ritual Bowl
The Becoming of a Vessel
At MAMA LOUX, our ceramic ritual bowls are created in collaboration
with a small scale of ceramic artists—true artists.
Each one working in deep relationship with their material.
Each one bringing years—often lifetimes—of devotion to clay.
There is an alchemy in their process:
Earth.
Water.
Hand.
Fire.
But also something less visible—
Intention.
Attention.
Presence.
These bowls are not mass produced.
They are formed—slowly, deliberately—
with a felt sense of purpose.
What emerges is not just form.
It is a body.
In many early cultures, vessels were never simply containers,
but extensions of the body itself—
formed, inhabited, and understood as living presences. (see Bodies of Clay: Prehistoric Humanised Pottery)
The Bowl — A Living Participant
A bowl is not a container.
It is a field.
It holds more than what is placed inside it.
It holds:
- heat
- scent
- offering
- attention
- memory
And over time, it begins to carry
the imprint of those moments.
This is something I have experienced again and again—
how a bowl changes through use,
how it gathers a kind of presence.
How it becomes familiar,
responsive.
The bowl remembers.
Not metaphorically.
Materially. Energetically. Relationally.

DS CLAYWORKS studio, Kahakaloa, Maui, Hawaii
Ritual Bowls — Holding as Devotion
To hold something well
is an act of devotion.
And to create a vessel that can hold—
truly hold—
is also an act of devotion.
This is the intention behind ritual bowls across cultures and continents, including ours.
They are designed to be lived with.
Returned to.
Used in quiet, repeated ways.
Not as decoration.
Not as object.
But as a place where something is held.
Where something can soften,
or settle,
or shift—
without needing to be named.
A Note from Mama Loux
There are moments
when I reach for the bowl
before I know why.
A quiet pull.
An instinct.
A soft remembering.
Something in me knows
there is something to be held.
So I place it there—
resin, ash, breath, attention—
and I wait.
Not for anything to happen.
But for something to arrive.
Over time,
the bowl begins to feel less like something I use
and more like something I meet.
A place where moments gather.
Where what is unspoken
is still received.
And again and again,
it brings me back—
to the simplest gesture,
to the smallest offering,
to the quiet recognition
that nothing here is empty.
That even this—
this small act,
this small vessel—
is part of a larger continuum
already unfolding.
A World of Living Things
The world is not made of objects.
It is made of presences.
Of relationships.
Of forms that hold and are held.
A bowl is one of those forms.
Simple.
Earthen.
Ancient.
And still—
fully alive.
To sit with it
is to remember.
To use it
is to enter into relationship.
And over time—
very quietly—
to feel that you are no longer the only one participating.
With reverence for our clay relations,
MAMA LOUX
Discover More about DS Clayworks
Source Notes
-
Objects Are Alive, in The Cambridge Handbook of Material Culture Studies
-
Inside the Neolithic Mind — (book) David Lewis-Williams & David Pearce
-
Grounded in Clay: The Spirit of Pueblo Pottery — (book) Pueblo Pottery Collective
- Bodies of Clay: Prehistoric Humanised Pottery
- Bodies of Clay: Prehistoric Humanised Pottery (book)
-
Clay Hypothesis (origin of life theory)

