For the last year plus, I set aside my love for clay. I can’t just call it pottery anymore because I don’t only throw bowls, platters, mugs, and plates now. I sculpt with it. I make a canvas out of the clay and draw on it with glaze, creating magical paintings.
This break from clay began when I quit my old career. I felt like I needed to give everything to my writing and my new publishing business, so clay was set aside. And that was okay. I knew I would return to that craft when the time was right.
Well, the time has returned, and I’m back. That first night back in my beloved local studio was a bit of a surprise. The shelf where I had kept my tools and works in progress for many years had been cleaned out. All my things had been thrown away. Even more shocking, few of my old friends were around. It was as if a hurricane had hit the studio, sweeping away everything I had loved.
Except me and the clay.
I had to start over. Borrow tools. Find a new shelf.
The clay was unchanged, at least. It was that same mixture of strength and flexibility that allowed me to mold it into something special that would hold its shape over time.
But I wasn’t the same.
I sat down at the wheel for the first time in two years, feeling unsure that I could throw anymore. I had primarily been sculpting and doing canvas on clay before I took my break.
I wedged a modest amount of clay and centered it on the wheel. I stared at the lump without turning the wheel on to start my dance with centrifugal force. Then I hit the switch.
And what a surprise! I hadn’t really forgotten how to do anything, and even better, I was ready to integrate my new talents with sculpture into my work on the wheel.
My first piece back is a coffee mug with a mermaid sculpted on the side. When she came out of the kiln a few days ago, I was elated. I’d returned to a craft I loved and produced something new because of all the gifts I’d integrated in my time away.
Happiness is Returning.
The return wasn’t perfect. My community, my place in the studio had been severed. But the clay was there, waiting for me.
I create with words all the time as a writer, something I’m doing even now, but I adore creating with something solid, something that isn’t language. It still touches the soul. The modality doesn’t change that.
Have you stopped doing something you love? Are you afraid, like I was, that you might not be able to do it anymore?
Give it a try again. It might surprise you how happy it makes you.