Time forces patience.
There have been several experiences that have taught me patience (or at least how to deal with it) in the last year or so. I won't go through a list of all of them but I can say with complete confidence that every experience in the recent past has enabled me to positively grow exponentially in an almost unbelievably short amount of time. I know that everything in my life up until now has "made me who I am today", if I may be slightly cliche. But this is the first time in my entire quarter-century of living that I have consciously recognized the growth and change within myself.
The most meaningful lesson I've learned is to live almost completely in the present. As difficult as it is, I try not think about the past or the future too often. Or perhaps I should say, I try not to LIVE in the past or the future. The only time that I have is the current moment and looking at the past or towards future is to feel regret (past) or worry (future). This acceptance of time and not fighting how slow or fast it is brings a new sense of peace to my life–a heightened sense of my present surroundings, if you will. I may not know what went wrong in the past (or maybe I do in some cases) and I may not know what I will be doing in the future (career, love, location, etc.), but not thinking about those has calmed my mind. The tune in my head shifted harmoniously from the ominous minor chords to the joyous major chords and everything sounds sweeter. Just like in the beautiful symphonies of Beethoven and Mozart, the chords shift and it becomes more than just a sounds. It becomes an inexplicable sensation throughout the entire self.
What does your symphony sound like?
What does your symphony sound like?
Naturally, what goes up must come down as Sir Newton so cynically pointed out to those of us who love to think we can fly. I think I've seen the farthest down I can go (I hope) and I think, because of my new found appreciation for patience in the world around me, my symphony has pages and pages of beautifully orchestrated notes with a just few minor chords thrown in just for good measure. Those minor dips are now met with acceptance and an understanding that it is part of the natural flow of how life works.
A tangible lesson in patience is throwing pottery. I'll even admit for the longest time I had no idea what "throwing" was. Well, throwing is that cool thing Demi Moore does on the wheel with Patrick Swayze behind her in Ghost. And no, I don't mean the sexual stuff. I mean the ceramic stuff. Using the momentum of the wheel and the malleability of the clay to create beautiful pottery.
I started taking a class called "Wheel Throwing and Beyond" at the local museum and the first class was this week. The few of us that are in the class were able to begin our first lesson on the wheel. If I can say one thing about throwing it is this: It is A LOT harder than Demi Moore makes it out to be. It is one hard medium to work with!
Our first class assignment was to make three cylinders on the wheel–your basic vase shape. We learned the technique step by step and then had the opportunity to get on the wheel and try it ourselves.
My final product: 0 cylinders, 1 bowl. FAIL
Throwing is TOUGH. It is all about touch and pressure and breath and moving with the clay and feeling the material. Apparently I don't have correct any of those things. Two of my cylinders flopped off because I applied too much pressure and the clay got too thin. And the last one that turned out as a bowl ended up like the because I pulled the clay too far out.
I think it is safe to say that I am no good at "wheel throwing and beyond". But this is where patience comes in. I have come to appreciate the challenge this medium has presented to me. This is yet another test of my patience. I know I will have to try and try and try over and over again to get what I want out of the clay. Then again, maybe I'll learn to love the "misshapen ball of clay" (to steal a line from Zoolander) that I create over the next few weeks.
It is like swimming for me. I know I can swim but I can't do it well. So I have to work on breathing and stroke and form and speed. All of these things will take incalculable amounts of time to perfect. However, it is the process and patience throughout this process that is teaching the lesson.
It's funny how this can relate to my teaching philosophy. This ceramics class is not about creating masterpieces. Rather, it is about learning and experiencing and exploring a new process of expression. In the end, I may not learn how to create a perfect cylinder ceramic vase, but I will learn how to step into a very zen-like state with the material I am working with and adapt my approach to make it work for me.
I'm not trying to say that a throwing class has become my metaphor for a new approach to life. Instead, I am trying to exemplify a perceptible experience as one way I am appreciating my present self and not regretting the past or worrying about the future.
Happy throwing!
A tangible lesson in patience is throwing pottery. I'll even admit for the longest time I had no idea what "throwing" was. Well, throwing is that cool thing Demi Moore does on the wheel with Patrick Swayze behind her in Ghost. And no, I don't mean the sexual stuff. I mean the ceramic stuff. Using the momentum of the wheel and the malleability of the clay to create beautiful pottery.
I started taking a class called "Wheel Throwing and Beyond" at the local museum and the first class was this week. The few of us that are in the class were able to begin our first lesson on the wheel. If I can say one thing about throwing it is this: It is A LOT harder than Demi Moore makes it out to be. It is one hard medium to work with!
Our first class assignment was to make three cylinders on the wheel–your basic vase shape. We learned the technique step by step and then had the opportunity to get on the wheel and try it ourselves.
My final product: 0 cylinders, 1 bowl. FAIL
Throwing is TOUGH. It is all about touch and pressure and breath and moving with the clay and feeling the material. Apparently I don't have correct any of those things. Two of my cylinders flopped off because I applied too much pressure and the clay got too thin. And the last one that turned out as a bowl ended up like the because I pulled the clay too far out.
I think it is safe to say that I am no good at "wheel throwing and beyond". But this is where patience comes in. I have come to appreciate the challenge this medium has presented to me. This is yet another test of my patience. I know I will have to try and try and try over and over again to get what I want out of the clay. Then again, maybe I'll learn to love the "misshapen ball of clay" (to steal a line from Zoolander) that I create over the next few weeks.
It is like swimming for me. I know I can swim but I can't do it well. So I have to work on breathing and stroke and form and speed. All of these things will take incalculable amounts of time to perfect. However, it is the process and patience throughout this process that is teaching the lesson.
It's funny how this can relate to my teaching philosophy. This ceramics class is not about creating masterpieces. Rather, it is about learning and experiencing and exploring a new process of expression. In the end, I may not learn how to create a perfect cylinder ceramic vase, but I will learn how to step into a very zen-like state with the material I am working with and adapt my approach to make it work for me.
I'm not trying to say that a throwing class has become my metaphor for a new approach to life. Instead, I am trying to exemplify a perceptible experience as one way I am appreciating my present self and not regretting the past or worrying about the future.
Happy throwing!
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