mess and noise (or lack, thereof)

today was a good day. i’d go as far as saying it’s one of the better ones i’ve had lately. i’ve been practicing pottery this weekend and have finally gotten back my mojo (in centering, at least). i haven’t properly focused on pottery the past few months due to all the chaos going on in my life and have, unfortunately, lost my muscle memory when it came to throwing on the wheel. i made sure to go back to the basics and spent hours this weekend looking for that familiar feeling. today i was able to center and lift with ease. the familiarity is back and i hope to never lose it again. of course i wouldn’t say it’s perfect, but i was able to make two bowls and one plate without repeating. i hope to start lifting higher walls in the next few weeks and actually throw a tall vase, but i need to clock in more hours of practice. i made a giant mess out of my balcony, but it felt great. the thing i love about pottery is i am encouraged to create a mess out of everything; i love it most especially because i’ve spent my whole life being told not to make any mess and finding a medium where my mess is celebrated is so liberating for me. i haven’t really established my own style and technique in pottery; i am still mastering the basics, but i hope i can branch out in the near future and be able to do sculpting as well. i wish to know clay so intimately to the point that i will be able to throw pots and sculpt even with my eyes closed.  a big hairy ambitious goal indeed, but i long to be in that state. i sometimes still feel frustrated and aggravated whenever i do pottery. this isn’t just limited to pottery though;  i am frustrated and in pain when i write as well. i am aiming for some kind of perfection. not perfection in denotation because that is impossible, but perfection in my own terms. what that is and how i will be able to achieve it is hazy to me, but i believe its entirety can be achieved with persistence and practice…and more practice. either way, i found myself at peace with the world today. no anxiety or paranoia or any turbulent thoughts; no feeling as if i am being rushed or forced to do something. i was happy doing my craft and basking in solitude, in silence, once again.sometimes i find myself afraid of the silence because it is the crucial time wherein i hear my own noise. i am faced with noise every day; from honking cars to loud conversations and barking mongrels, but it is the noise from within that frightens me the most. my anger, hatred, frustrations, insecurities, and little annoyances—all these noises that contribute to the degradation of my mental health. i face these everyday with no escape, but today was different. there was no voice in my head telling me i wasn’t good enough, no surge of depression, no anxiety over a petty thing. i am so grateful for today; days like this make me see the beauty of Life, that, perhaps, Life isn’t so futile after all and it actually has meaning. sometimes i wish it was like this everyday, sometimes i wish i didn’t have to cry myself to sleep and cry again the moment i wake up out of fear of life itself, sometimes i wish i never had to wake up feeling as if i’m carrying the whole world on my shoulders, but most days i still do and i’m trying to live with that reality, but it’s such a good feeling having none of that today. i’m cherishing it and writing it down because i don’t know when i’ll have days like this again.

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