Adji Ngathe kebe
I’ve always been drawn to pottery. There was something about the tactile feel to the clay I couldn’t wait to experience. I knew I’d love it—too much Taurus in the birth chart, aching for a semblance of stability through Earth. This summer I got the chance to purchase an 8-week workshop class for the Fall. My first day I struggled with the wheel. I didn’t really understand how to balance it. I was either going too fast or too slow. I became unsure of putting my foot on the pedal within minutes into the class. I was looking at everyone getting the wheel spinning. I watched as their clay formed into bowl shapes. My goal was just to create something that wasn’t a blob.
The instructor saw me struggling and came in to help. She helped me properly get the wheel started and I finally got to feel the clay spin within my hands. Afterwards it was time for me to shape it. She noticed I was using too much force. She said for a “tiny woman,” you’re really strong. I said “I know,” with a smile. Unfortunately, I had to be my entire life. She told me to use less force. I was going against the wheel and forcing the clay to turn into what I imagined a pottery object should be. She positioned my hands so I can see the fluidity in which the clay moves She taught me to go with the wheel and not against it. She also taught me when to apply pressure. It reaffirmed for me not to force things. I’m strong-willed and I can make anything happen. Sometimes, I think I’m too comfortable with making my way through the world as such. Being a beginner again helped me learn to go with the flow of things.
I think of how children learn best because they don’t care to be right, or to look good while doing something, or embarrass themselves. I see it every day in my students. They are game to explore, ask all the questions, even if it sounds—unhinged. And make no mistake, children are unhinged, disoriented, and deliberately deranged. And I love them. They dive right in. They make all the mistakes, which is perfect. They slowly learn how to get the right answer because they’ve gotten the wrong answer so many times. And with each answer they got wrong they learned more. It forced them to learn multiple ways to solve problems.
What I loved about the pottery workshop was the lack of expectation for perfection. So many of my creations we’re lopsided, wonky…it was giving Blob the Builder chile on most days. I can’t center my bowls or cups consistently. I was relieved when I heard other students in the class say it took them two or three years of consistent pottery to finally be able to center it correctly. I’m enjoying the learning process. I’m enjoying being a beginner. Social media has a way of sanitizing our growth. It seems as if everyone has it together at all times and even when they are beginning something, it has to give the illusion of mastery. I don’t expect my students to learn anything on first, second, or even third try. It’s the consistent work they do every day in class, which reveals how well they’re learning. I want to be a beginner always. I want to stumble on my skills and interests. I want to explore and I’m willing to take years. There’s no rush.
There’s also really no expectation for perfection. Easier said than done, but we genuinely don’t need to care what people think of us at all times. We can create bad art. Things with no shape or form and definitely does not represent the vision we had in mind. To be a beginner is to try. I’ve been learning this lesson for so many years, but the best thing I did for myself was to try. To try things despite the fear in my stomach. I think too many of us hold ourselves back from our full capabilities. We get scared of being judged. We’re terrified of failure, embarrassing ourselves. Chile I embarrass myself for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the multiple snacks in between. We’re all weird and awkward. No one is actually “cool’ and looking “cool” Is irrelevant. Our desire for self-importance stops us from taking action on the things we want to do. Try something you’ve always wanted to do. Go into it with the zeal of a child. Hope you fail. Hope you fail many times because it’s how you learn to walk. It’s how you learn there are multiple ways to do what you always wanted to do. Be a beginner. Try again. The goal isn’t perfection, but to start. Consistency is how you learn anything. As I’ve learned with my students, no one is really “bad” at anything. They didn’t have enough opportunities to practice, people in their lives didn’t motivate them to keep going, or some other factors. Dare to be a beginner. Try. Then try one more time.
