The Zen of Pottery

I hadn’t intended to sign up for a second 6-week pottery class at Mudhoe at the end of April. I thought I’d take a break during planting season and come back to it later. But when Jill Bright, the owner, texted me one last time before the class started 3 weeks ago, I felt like it was something I really needed to do. My life was pretty good at the time, but I felt like the peaceful centering of pottery-making amidst the hectic planting season and work projects could be an oasis in my busy days. So, I signed up at the last minute.

I had my birthday right before the second class. My husband did all he could to make my birthday special, yet a stressful monkey wrench got tossed into the middle of my day that sent us scrambling to set things straight. A chunk of my birthday was devoted to cleaning up that mess.

More challenges started happening shortly thereafter. Let’s just say I’ve had a humdinger of a couple weeks. Besides some chronic, excruciating jaw pain, I have a lot on my mind doing things for loved-ones who are struggling. One crisis has taken me into uncharted territory. I’ve had lots of sleepless nights over the last ten days. Several nights I’ve awakened in the middle of the night and laid there for hours, worrying about loved-ones and running through all the bases I need to cover when dawn breaks.

Monday night I went for a pottery class. Heavy burdens were on my mind as I began to clean up last week’s pieces and prepare my clay for the wheel. The cool thing is this was a makeup class for me and I was the only one there with Jill, the instructor. She let me talk about my troubles. As a former therapist, she had some really great insights and ideas for me.

Getting Centered with the Clay

Once I got on the wheel and began the centering process, I could feel my mind and body start to center along with the clay. My thoughts quieted and all my problems melted away. My first two pieces turned out great. On the last three, my right hand slipped or pushed too hard and created a gash in the pieces. I was able to salvage the pieces with some TLC. They aren’t perfect, but I was able to clean them up the next night after they dried a bit. They look pretty good.

As I drove home Monday night, I realized that there was a metaphor for me in the clay … particularly with the gashes in my pots. In the past, I would have thought the pieces were ruined and been tempted to remove the top of the pots or recycle the clay completely. Monday night, I patiently worked with the gashed pieces. I cradled them with the wheel going as slowly as possible, even turned the wheel off and pushed the clay back where it needed to be so I could gingerly shape it into something decent.

Pottery, A Metaphor for Life

One of my family members has had a catastrophic set of events wreak havoc on their life. I’ve felt so heartbroken and sad for this person who suffered such a major setback when it was totally not their fault. Things were going so well … just like my pieces that looked so perfect … until unexpected and uncontrollable events wrecked everything.

After my class Monday night I thought, “Maybe this can be fixed. Maybe just like I fixed those gashes in my clay pots, this seemingly catastrophic mar on my loved one’s life is fixable as well. Perhaps something beautiful can still emerge here. I have faith that it can. I believe in miracles. I believe in God’s ability to fix broken things. And I believe in this incredible person I love so much. Anything is possible.