How a Pottery Class Is Helping Me Embrace the Beauty of Being a Beginner

Ever since I stopped drinking (almost 250 days sober!), I promised myself I’d build new habits—things that would make me feel alive.

I wanted to get my hands dirty, take a dance class to feel more fluid in my body, become semi-fluent in Spanish again, maybe even do a weekend upstate learning survival skills like how to make a fire and a tent. I craved newness, not just to fill my time but to expand myself, to rediscover parts of me I hadn’t yet met.

I started with pottery.

Once a week, I go to Earth Arts in Long Beach for an eight-week series. I signed up to have fun, to try something new, to let myself be a beginner. But what I didn’t expect was how much this class would bring up old versions of myself—the ones that used to struggle with learning.

Pottery is hard. Harder than I imagined. Most of my classmates have taken a class before, so while they shape their clay with ease, I’m still trying to center mine on the wheel. I need more instructions, more attempts, more patience with myself. Sometimes I leave feeling a little defeated, wondering why it’s taking me so long to grasp the basics.

And then I remember—I’ve felt this before.

As a kid, I struggled with reading and writing. I was placed in special groups for students who needed extra help. I remember staring at words on the page, willing them to make sense, but still feeling like I was always a few steps behind. Funny enough, those two things—reading and writing—are now the loves of my life.

When middle school and high school came, my learning struggles faded. I thrived in school, eventually graduating magna cum laude in college. I have years of evidence that I am capable of learning, adapting, excelling. And yet, here I am, sitting at a pottery wheel, feeling like that little girl again—frustrated, impatient, trying to prove to herself and others that she’s good at something.

But here’s the thing: I didn’t sign up for this class to be good at it. I signed up to be bad at it. To be messy. To have fun. To go with the flow. To remind myself what it feels like to simply enjoy the process without attaching my worth to the outcome.

How often do we deny ourselves the joy of learning something new because we’re afraid of not being good at it? How many times have you talked yourself out of trying something because you don’t want to struggle, don’t want to be seen fumbling, don’t want to be a beginner?

But what if we let go of that? What if we allowed ourselves to be bad at something, just for the joy of trying? What if we made space for wonder, for play, for the kind of learning that isn’t about achievement but about expansion?

So I want to ask you: What’s something new you’ve been wanting to try, just for the fun of it? What’s a class, a skill, or a hobby you’ve always been drawn to but never gave yourself permission to explore?

Maybe we can hold each other accountable for embracing the beauty of being a beginner.

With love,

Danielle