My Favorite Things: Mashiko Mug

I read once that “appreciating what you have changes your perception of what you think you need.” I’m at a point in my life where my need for material things is very low. I’m always looking for things that we are no longer using and love the feeling of freeing these things from the confines of our house to share with the greater world. With our recent big effort to get our house in order we’ve cleared out a lot of items, from the smallest toy or salt shaker to a queen size mattress and other large pieces. As the organizing and the clearing continue I’ve been thinking about how easy it is to let things go. There aren’t too many things that I’m attached to. With Christmas approaching and gift giving a focus right now, I am more aware than ever that my needs are few. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my favorite things and how those few things that I do cherish really bring a great deal of joy to my Life in their own unique little ways.

Today I share with you my most treasured possession: My Mashiko Mug

Mashiko is a world famous pottery town, located in the Tochigi prefecture in Japan. Ten years ago, I lived in Utsunomiya, which is the prefectural capital of Tochigi. During my time there I took part in a brief homestay arrangement, where I spent the weekend with a Japanese family who lived in a beautiful small town just outside Oyama, a short distance from both Utsonomiya and Mashiko. The family were wonderful hosts and brought me to Mashiko for a little outing. After showing me around this lovely town they then presented me with the gift of my Mashiko mug. To say I love this mug is an understatement. It looks beautiful and feels wonderful in my hands. It is the ultimate comfort experience to sit with this mug, filled with hot, milk tea (or chai), preferably wearing woolen socks on a cold winter’s night, sitting beside a fire.

When I realized, shortly after receiving this gift, that I was becoming very attached to it I thought about how I would feel if it broke. (Now that I have two children that "if" is now really a “when”.) From that moment I first thought about the mug breaking I made a decision to use it like it’s already broken. By that I mean, each time I touch or use the mug (or someone else does) I mentally tell myself it is already broken. It’s a very soft thought, merely recognizing that the mug is an impermanent object. When the day comes that the mug is no more I may be sad, but I won’t be devastated, and I will remember all the joy that this simple object has given me. (That’s the hope!)