Finding the Clay: A New Creative Outlet
A few years ago, I walked into a local pottery studio on a whim. After long days in HR filled with policies, performance reviews, and endless meetings, I craved something entirely different—something tactile and grounding. When I touched that cool, malleable clay for the first time, I instantly felt a spark of excitement. I had no idea then how much pottery would transform my approach to work, family, and life in general.
Pottery might seem far removed from the world of human resources, but the lessons I’ve learned at the wheel have seeped into every corner of my life. From shaping a simple bowl to stepping back and analyzing a wobbly vase, pottery demands patience, presence, and an honest form of self-expression. Each time I settle down in front of a lump of clay, I’m reminded of how much we all need to slow down, breathe, and allow space for creativity to flow.
Wrestling with Patience
If there’s one thing clay teaches, it’s patience. At first, I was eager to throw a perfect pot on my first try. I watched online tutorials and imagined myself creating elegant mugs overnight. Reality, however, had a different plan. My early attempts ended grotesquely lopsided or fell apart entirely. Each time the wheel spun too fast or I applied too much pressure, the clay would collapse in a messy heap. It was frustrating—and humbling.
In HR, I’m used to problem-solving quickly. If an issue arises, I dive in to find a solution, sometimes impatiently demanding quick results. Pottery forced me to recalibrate. I learned to slow the wheel down, center the clay with gentleness, and give it time to settle. My first successes were modest—a small pinch pot or a tiny bowl—but they felt monumental. When you finally feel the clay respond to your hands, you understand why pottery has been treasured for thousands of years.
Learning patience in the studio spills over into the office. Now, when a challenging employee situation pops up or a project veers off course, I remind myself that some problems need time to resolve. Just as clay needs moments to rest and regain structure, people need space to reflect and grow. Over time, I’ve become more intentional about giving both myself and others grace to learn at our own pace.
Embracing the Present Moment
Another gift pottery has given me is presence. In a typical workday, I juggle emails, phone calls, and deadlines—often all at once. It’s easy to feel scattered or stressed. But when I sit at the wheel, there’s no room for multitasking. If my mind drifts to tomorrow’s meeting or a family chore, my hands slip, and the clay suffers. To keep the wheel steady and the form even, I have to focus entirely on the here and now.
This sense of immersion is surprisingly meditative. As soon as I tuck my thumbs into a spinning mound of clay, the world outside the studio fades. My thoughts settle. I notice the cool dampness of the clay on my fingers, the gentle hum of the wheel, and the subtle shifting of my arms as I mold the shape. It’s a practice in mindfulness without requiring any special training or sitting posture—just my hands and the clay.
Taking that mindful approach back to work has been a game-changer. Instead of glancing at my phone every time I’m in a meeting or drafting an email while listening to a coworker, I’ve started focusing on one thing at a time. If I’m talking to a colleague about a concern, I lean in and listen fully. If I’m reading a report, I give it my undivided attention. Much like centering clay on a wheel, centering my thoughts helps me stay balanced and present.
Expressing Yourself Through Form
Pottery is more than a technical skill; it’s a form of self-expression. In the studio, I’ve watched students produce wildly different pieces from the same simple material. One person’s pot might be tall and delicate, while another’s is squat and whimsical. Each work reflects its creator’s personality, mood, and taste.
At first, I hesitated to add any decoration to my pieces. I worried about making mistakes or not living up to some ideal image. But soon I realized that mistakes are part of the process. A tiny crack or a glaze that pools unevenly can become a unique accent—something that tells a story. My favorite bowl, for instance, has a subtle ripple on one side, a result of my hand slipping during the shaping process. Instead of starting over, I embraced that imperfection and allowed it to become a focal point.
In my HR role, I’ve learned to appreciate the value of authenticity. Just as no two pots are identical, no two employees are identical. Each person brings their own style, strengths, and quirks. Encouraging authenticity in the workplace means giving people space to share their ideas and take ownership of their work—even if it sometimes means things look different from how we expected. When we allow that diversity of thought and expression, teams become more creative and resilient.
Bringing Pottery Lessons Home
Pottery isn’t something I reserve for a weekend at the studio; it’s a way of living. I incorporate small reminders from the wheel into everyday routines. When I’m helping my kids with a homework project, I slow down and truly listen rather than rush them along. When my husband and I navigate a parenting debate, I try to “stay centered,” reminding myself that just as clay can shift under pressure, relationships need a gentle, thoughtful approach.
Sometimes, when life gets particularly hectic, I bring a small ball of clay home. I encourage my children to play with it, molding shapes and watching them evolve. It’s a simple act, but it reminds all of us to step away from screens, focus on our hands, and let our minds quiet down.
The Ever-Evolving Shape
Pottery has taught me that life—and people—are like clay: we’re malleable, ever-evolving, and sometimes imperfect. The process of shaping clay mirrors the process of personal and professional growth. It requires patience when things wobble, presence to keep our focus, and a willingness to express ourselves honestly—even if it means embracing our flaws.
If you’ve ever been curious about pottery but hesitated, I encourage you to give it a try. You don’t need to be an artist or have any special talent—just an open mind and a willingness to learn. The lessons you pick up at the wheel will likely spill over into your daily life in ways you never expected.
So, the next time you feel rushed or overwhelmed, remember that shaping clay—and shaping ourselves—takes time. Take a metaphorical seat at the wheel, center your thoughts, and let the process guide you toward greater patience, presence, and authentic self-expression.