Every week I look forward to Tuesday because that’s when I get to play with clay. There’s something about making a thing with your hands that’s not only satisfying but also relaxing. It took a long time for me to throw clay properly on a pottery wheel. My first bowls looked so alien—“Hey, they’re abstract! Hey, it’s art! Oh hey, now it’s a planter.” I watched numerous videos on wheel throwing, shaping, growing the bowl or cylinder, but of course videos don’t give you the feel of clay, how thin or thick it should be, how your hands just know when the clay is centered properly and when it’s not. When I’m at the wheel, every thought zeroes in on the mound of clay in front of me. The lump of clay that will soon become a thing. It’s almost like yoga. I’m in my own world, working muscles that I usually don’t use as the arm strength needed to keep clay steady and centered is surprisingly high. At the end of a couple of classes, I’ve made a bowl. And let myself not think for a few hours a week. It’s all good. 

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