Few thoughts on meditation, stress relief, and clay

Whenever somebody talks about meditation, most people think of a picture of somebody sitting quietly, with their eyes closed.  Yogis.  New Age spiritual stuff.  I've tried that, and found that it doesn't work.  My mind doesn't quiet down enough because my nose itches, I can't remember if I started the dishwasher, whatever.

Instead, I throw clay.

Today, for example.  It started off not too badly - a missing bus pass meant that we drove today, and spending time with Steve is always lovely and incredible.  However, that changed a smidge, because I nearly got hit by a bicyclist that was going far too fast.  On a sidewalk, in the middle of a college campus, riding like she was still on the road.  I moved onto the grass, she zoomed by.  Whatever, nobody got hurt.  Classes are classes, and I manage to snag a crepe at the clubs fair that was being held today (French club).  One of my on-campus jobs raised my tension a bit; there was a discussion going on that I was far less than comfortable with, and when I was asked why I looked uncomfortable - and yes, I most certainly told them why their topic of conversation and the direction that it was taking differed a solid 180 degrees from my view and experiences - not a single word was said for another 5, 10 minutes until somebody else walked in.  Well, I cannot excuse the fact that I have my own opinions, built out of my own experiences, and I understand that people have opposing viewpoints to mine, but I spent an hour feeling a bit like a social pariah.  When the talk started to turn very nasty to my ears I simply got up and left.

But then I walked into the ceramics studio, got my stuff set up and started wedging some clay.  I had no clue what I wanted to make, all I knew is that I had two pounds of cone 10 studio mix clay sitting in front of me, a wheel behind me, and two hours until Steve came back to pick me up at the end of his day.  So I wedged, then threw a perfectly lovely little vase.  Put it aside, take a look at the clock.  I threw a second, a little different, little shorter, but it will still look amazing filled with a riotous bunch of flowers.  This one didn't go quite as well - my first attempt was imperfectly centered, so one side was far too thin - but the second worked out.  Cleaned up, and then it was time to go meet Steve and go home.  But when I'm throwing, there is nothing but me and the clay and it doesn't take long until it's just the clay.  It's lovely, and it's not going to be very much fun when I graduate because by gosh, I'm going to take as much pottery as I possibly can between now and then.

And the stress I had walking into the building was gone and, 5 hours later, hasn't come back.