More Pottery

I continue to make squished little pots that sort of resemble pottery but actually look more like a three year old's Play-Dough project. I'm usually such a natural artist, so this is a surprise. But I'm not bitter, nor unhappy even. Because every time my pottery teacher asks if he can help and guides my hands, I am filled with peace and my heart gets the same content feeling that you get when you are cuddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot cocoa on a really cold day. I don't think I've ever been attracted to someone's spirit, but I am to his, and so I gladly exchange bad pottery for moments of bliss. Perhaps it's been too long since I last dated. But that's not really the point. I don't know that I could even date someone like that.

At my last class, as he watched me center a piece of clay (like a pro, despite him watching thank you very much) he commented that he thought I had gotten much better. I gave him a look of, "dude, you have to say that, you're being paid to be nice and teach me pottery" and he said, "you've learned to connect your energy to the clay's energy and you seem much more focused and less manic." That part made me laugh out loud because it wasn't the first time I've heard "manic" to describe me. It's been 6 pottery classes but he's pretty much got it. I think I must sign up for pottery class for the rest of my life and continue to drink in his warmth, letting it wash away mania, leaving peace in it's place... And providing me and everyone I know with ashtray/bowl/mug hybrids.