The Wheel Isn't for Me

I took a wheel class today, and it was genuinely fun. There was laughter, mud everywhere, and that unmistakable thrill of trying something completely new. I loved the mess. I loved how physical it was. I loved how nothing stayed clean for long.

But my back hurt, and centering the clay took more effort than joy. I could feel myself working against the process instead of settling into it. The wheel is beautiful, and I understand why people fall in love with it, but somewhere between the strain and the struggle to center, something quiet became clear.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a handbuilder.

And oddly enough, that realization felt just as exciting as the class itself.

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