As we grow older, it can be surprisingly easy to lose touch with the things that once brought us joy. Life gets busy. Families need us. Jobs demand our attention. There are errands to run, appointments to keep, bills to pay, and a thousand little things that seem more important than sitting down simply to do something we love. Before we realize it, those hobbies that once made our hearts happy have been tucked away in closets, boxes, or the forgotten corners of our minds. I’ve been thinking about that lately because I’m getting ready to return to something I loved years ago: pottery.
It has been several years since I’ve sat at a pottery wheel. Several years since I’ve felt a lump of cool, wet clay beneath my hands and watched it slowly become something beautiful. But recently, I found myself thinking about the studio again, and I realized just how much I’ve missed it. I can almost feel it already, the wet clay sliding between my fingers, the gentle rhythm of the wheel turning beneath my hands, the anticipation of seeing what might emerge from that shapeless lump. There is something almost magical about pottery. You begin with a handful of earth, something ordinary and unremarkable, and with patience, creativity, and a little bit of imagination, you can transform it into something useful or beautiful. I’m looking forward to getting my hands dirty again. More than that, I’m looking forward to finding that creative part of myself that has been waiting patiently to come back to life.
Maybe that is one of the gifts of getting older. We begin to realize that we don't have to spend every waking moment being productive. We don't have to justify everything we do by how useful it is. Sometimes it is enough to do something simply because it makes us happy. There is value in joy. There is value in creativity.
There is value in sitting quietly with a paintbrush, opening a book, planting flowers, taking photographs, writing words that may never be published, walking through nature, playing music, sewing, gardening, woodworking, cooking, crafting, or sitting at a pottery wheel with clay-covered hands and a smile on your face. Those things may not change the world, but they can change something inside of us.
I think we sometimes forget that we are more than the roles we have spent our lives filling. We are mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, grandparents, employees, caregivers, volunteers, homemakers and providers. We spend so much time pouring ourselves into other people that we can forget there is a person inside of us who needs nurturing, too. And perhaps that person is whispering, “Remember what you used to love?” Maybe it’s time to listen.
For me, that means pottery. It means walking back into a studio after years away and allowing myself to play with clay again. It means accepting that the first bowl might be crooked, the vase might collapse, and whatever I make may not look anything like the picture I had in my head. And that's okay. The point isn't perfection. The point is being present. The point is remembering what it feels like to create something with your own hands. The point is joy.
I think we need to give ourselves permission to rediscover those forgotten pieces of ourselves. Not because we are trying to turn back the clock or become the person we were twenty or thirty years ago, but because there are still new things waiting to be discovered within us. Age doesn't mean our creativity has to retire. It doesn't mean our curiosity has to disappear. It doesn't mean we've had our share of adventure.
There are still things we haven't made, places we haven't explored, books we haven't read, photographs we haven't taken, recipes we haven't tried, paintings we haven't painted and pieces of clay we haven't shaped. There is still life left to live. And maybe part of living it well means making room for the things that make our hearts come alive.
So I'm going back to the pottery wheel. I'm going back to the studio. I'm going back to the feel of wet clay slipping through my fingers and the wonderful uncertainty of wondering what my hands will create. And perhaps, in the process, I'll discover something even more important than pottery. I'll rediscover joy.
If there is something you've loved but haven't done in years, maybe this is your reminder to bring it back into your life. Don't wait for the perfect time. Don't wait until everything else is finished. Life will always have something waiting to be done. Make time for something that makes you smile. Pick up the paintbrush. Open the book. Plant the garden. Dust off the camera. Pull out the sewing machine. Take the fishing rod out of the garage. Sit down at the piano. Or, like me, get your hands covered in clay. Because joy doesn't always find us in the middle of our busy lives. Sometimes, we have to make room for it. And I intend to make room for mine.
