the art of pottery and death of self.

pottery class lessons and the ego death.

I took my first pottery class this week during a trip to Asheville North Carolina (a whole lot more on that later because what a little wonder of a place that completely activated my artistry and helped me tap into my exploration.)

I’ve been wanting to take a pottery class for a while now and just haven’t found the time to find a studio to try in LA and make it to a class, so being able to experience it on this trip was truly a timely gift. 

I already knew I was going to love this art form because I have been actively trying to put myself in situations where I am outside of my comfort zone and outside of my zone of expertise.

I know poetry, I know words, I can curate a poem in a matter of minutes and brainstorm a whole concept once I really focus on it. I’m quick with the work that I have put many years into and because of that (and my exhausting performance perfectionism) - I don’t always tend to venture outside of what I know. So finding something that helped me get out of my head and into my hands and body was something I’ve been craving.

When we got to the class, I thought it would be a group class but it was basically an intimate one on one hosted by my hosts, Visit Asheville and that made the experience even sweeter.  The moment we put on our aprons and sat down - the lessons started pouring in.

My excitement seemed to outweigh my fear of venturing Into something so new and I threw down the clay and began the steps outlined by the instructor. She was a huge part of it because she first and foremost didn’t tell us at any point in time that we were making anything specific. No set instructions that we were on our way to molding our new favorite coffee cups or cereal bowls or flower vases, we were just following the general beginning steps. Learning the process of acclimating our hands to accept the clay in our palms, adjusting our fingers to learning the shaping and direction of very malleable material that can alter with just a touch of a finger. And then once we finished the first five or so steps, we scraped off the clay and did it again and again. No outcome, just leaning in to the process, adjusting to the weirdness of the hand shapes and elbows tucked into my side body. By the second time I had grasped more steps, my body settled into the positions a little easier and my control to know what I was creating and why, released with every spin of the wheel. 

I heard someone use the phrase “Egoic death” at a conference this week and it resonated so deeply with me in this season of life right now. To release and let go my need to perform and be perceived, to let my ego die a little just for the sake of being more free and living more fully. To let my need to be perceived as nice and appeasing— spin round and round with the wheel and spritz off like the bits of clay turning loose due to my unlearning.

My egoic death happened on this pottery wheel for sure. I made a mess. I kept trying to shape my clay into a bowl apparently and released the need for an outcome or performance over and over again. I let myself not know and gave grace to myself for the learning of it all. I played, I messed up and hope to do it all over again. To dive into a space where I can remind myself, that perfection does not belong here, only showing up with the eyes to see something in a new way, a heart open to expanding in compassion for myself and the journey life takes my own and the hands to know when to release and begin again.

Who would have thought, an hour long pottery class would be a funeral of an ego and a rebirth of a human willing to just show up and surrender to the moment.

Lessons from taking my first pottery class:

Let go of the need to control an outcome. 

Be open to possibilities. 

It’s okay if you’re not good at something immediately. Perfectionism will be the death of your creativity.

Ask for help. Accept the note.

(The lie is that you need to do it yourself.)

Go where the watering is. 

If you’re feeling dry and worn out don’t feel like you always have to lean into the friction.

Let go 

Let yourself enjoy the room to play and explore. Wonder is ready to find you. 

be okay with starting over, again and again. As many times as necessary.