If man was made of clay, what made clay of man? As a potter, I can personally attest that clay has a way of teaching you about life. It is persnickety and changeable. Some days clay and I have a symbiotic love affair. Then, it is as if I am shaping a piece of my soul to enter this three dimensional world. On others, we have very nasty arguments ending with nothing more than a frustrated mess.

It's okay though, we always work it out.

Nevertheless, I must be gaining something from the relationship to justify spending so much time playing in mud, right? My fellow potters certainly understand the addiction, but to those whom have not fallen in love with clay it may be surprising what a little dirt can do for your psyche.

1. Life, like pottery, is a process.

Before you can throw, you must wedge your clay, eliminating air bubbles and aligning the tiny platelets. While throwing, you must center, before you can open the wall, and open the wall before you can raise it. You now have a cylinder, which isn't very exciting. Next, you shape it. In here, out there, raise it a little more. Most importantly, know when to stop. Even after you have thrown, the bottom must be trimmed, the form must be dried. After that there's the bisque firing, glazing, and glaze firing. At certain points the work may collapse, crack, or even explode.

There are physical and mental stages of life, as Erikson and Piaget proclaimed. Each is different, and equally important for one cannot happen without the preceding stage. I, as a planner, spend a little too much time aligning my platelets before taking action. There are only so many air bubbles in the clay, only so much preparation I can effectively do. And as a perfectionist, I waste a lot of time making sure everything is just right, even though the universe doesn't really seem to notice and usually messes it all up anyway. Throw as a perfectionist, and the form will collapse, guaranteed. Therefore, a good potter knows when to stop, and so does a happy person.

2. There are times when things just don't work out.

Clay has a mind of it's own. I've spent a week making a teapot only to drop it on the floor. I've spent an hour pulling a handle only to have it break off in a firing. I've spent a day throwing without making anything I could keep. It's a hard lesson to learn, and even harder to accept: you just can't force some things to happen. No matter how hard you try, or how much you want it, nothing will change.

3. However, there are some times you can fix things.

Slip and score a stamp over a dimple. Re-fire that glaze. Rethink your design. Clay has a memory. It will remember you shoved it that way first, and resist being redirected. However, it is also quite fluid. Working with clay is a mutual exercise in guiding. It also has many engineering opportunities, and engages serious critical thinking. Walls collapse, but plastic bags make great armatures. What set out to be a bust of an Italian pastry chef may turn out to be a wonderful jazz musician, and that's okay. Clay keeps the brain flexible. Knowing what you can fix, and thinking outside the box to do so are very valuable skills.

4. Beauty and function CAN coexist.

A pretty face does not imply an empty vase. Your mug can have tentacles and still be microwave safe. A beautiful person can also be wicked smart. Congratulations, you can have it all! An aesthetic never needs to be sacrificed for function, if you can just figure out how to make it happen. Which reminds me of something else...

5. Looks are relative.

I've seen people faun over what I thought was the most gaudy glaze combination to ever exist. What, at the time, I believed to be my best sculpture, did not impress my teacher. "Only God can make birds, Camille," she said. Don't worry about what others think of your personal image. They can often be fickle, and there really is no way to please everyone. Please yourself.

6. Appreciate other people's passions.

Stanford does not accept pottery portfolios as supplemental applications, only sculpture. It's a little offensive. Yes, my art can serve a function, but it is still art. I have created it with aesthetics in mind. I have dedicated too much time to making a piece for it to be solely functional. Yes, it also requires physical effort. Potters have killer shoulder muscles. The technique must be practiced, like a sport, and must be graceful like a dance. It may not make sense to you, but to someone else it might be totally cool. Respect the time, respect the effort, respect the talent, respect the passion, and you will receive respect in return.

Like clay, your life is yours to shape. It may not always go to plan, but you might just end up with something beautiful.