the math of amber hope

The pieces came together at the same time.  Two pieces cut and ground from each type of amber glass.  So which is for my friend from our time in Illinois (who was part of the best prank ever played upon myself) or the friend, who lives here in Lansdale, not too many blocks from home.

I imagined a project and threw the idea out there on facebook.  For a certain price I would design a mandala of hope while keeping your concerns in my thoughts.  You see, I had 14 types of amber glass out from a previous project.  The glass kept suggesting possible projects.  The glass clearly did not want to be thrown back into the bin of amber.  The mandala idea stuck.  All I needed was a friend to have faith in the project, in me, in hope.

When I saw two friends had responded, how could I say no to one of them.  So I said, "yes."

As I was in the midst of foiling I realized I did not know who would get which mandala.  The answer that emerged made me smile.  It did not matter.  For in the math of hope, the hope did not get split into two pieces; the hope did not double in size, but instead their hopes mingled and then emerged after growing exponentially.  Each piece is filled with my hope for them.  My friends have been brought together in the midst of amber glass.

They are done.  My friends will see them before you do.  Oh, and those dark pieces near the center.  Just imagine what light can do to something that appears dark.  and that my friends, is my definition of hope.