Just a pile of muck

I have been dabbling in pottery for the past few months and thoroughly enjoy sitting at the wheel with my hands mucky and coming out with something that's a sorry excuse for a bowl, cup, or what have you.
Pottery for me has been that hobby that is unlike anything else I've done before. Scrapping is fun but expensive. Photography is good too but I'm only good with kids. Quilting is rewarding but it takes so long to get the finished product that I lose patience. Then there came pottery. Something I have always been interested in but never took the time or seized the opportunity to explore. Since I've started pottery, there have just been a miss mash of philosophical awakenings each time I go. Largely they are of the spiritual kind.
"You have to listen" my instructor explained. "If you don't listen you'll get frustrated with yourself and with me. In order for you to do this you have to listen to what I say and try not to get ahead of where I'm telling you to go." Right.
"Put your hands together. Your hands are stronger when they're together than when they're apart." Right.
"You can reuse anything you think is a mistake." Right.
"You might think something is a mistake or it doesn't turn out how you imagined it, but sometimes they're your best pieces or they're the ones that turn out even better than you thought." Right.
"Sometimes when something isn't working you need to stop and come back to it later." Right.
"When you wedge the clay (kneed it) you wear your muscles down so you're not as likely to fight the clay when you get it on the wheel." Right.
"When you feel friction between your hands and the clay your piece will start to come apart." Right.

If I go and get nothing that I can physically hold in my hand, I walk away with an experience unlike anything else I've done before.