Column

My hands had become rough, crude and peasant-like. The nails had chipped and grains of drying sand stuck stubbornly in the crevices. But my heart was leaping with joy as I hopped out of my first pottery class last week. I had never before felt so connected as when my hands moulded the malleable clay into shape.

I felt empowered for those two hours — kneading, shaping and decorating clay to make it fit the picture in my mind. The pottery class lived up to all the excitement leading up to it. I sent text messages, dropped unsubtle one-liners at the end of emails to friends and allowed my creative mind to run wild with all the things I wanted to create with clay. One such friend — and he’s the philosophical type — promptly wrote back asking why I chose to join pottery class. I texted back: “Because I want to get my hands dirty. Let go a little. Create something new.”

Everything I’d read about the Zen spirituality of Japanese potters came flooding back as I scooped out a handful of clay and held it. I had read about the process of making a pot — of how the physical handling of clay increases spiritual and emotional awareness. It was all that and more.

In The Soulwork Of Clay: Pottery-making As A Metaphor For The Spiritual Journey, Marjory Zoet Bankson draws parallels between pot-making and the spiritual journey.
In my class, I made a Ganesha idol and can identify with every step of the process.

Grounding is like connecting with our core elements; kneading is to awaken the inner
realm; centering makes you focus on creative possibility; shaping is the same as balancing inner and outer tension; finishing is trimming away the excess; decorating adds a playful touch and by firing, we commit to transformation. I was, once again, playing like a little child. I let my fingers explore, my feelings speak.

I expect more from these pottery classes than a few busy Sunday mid-mornings. I’m reminded of an ancient Chinese story that best fits my expectation. A nobleman riding through town sees a peasant potter at work and stops to admire his creation. “Your pots possess such convincing beauty. How do you do it?” he asks the potter. “You are looking at the mere outward shape. What I am forming lies within,” replies the potter. It can take something as basic as clay to connect the inward and the outward dimensions of life.
The author works with DNA.Sunday