I've been making pots for decades, but the first part of the process, centering, is still difficult for me. 

Centering the clay requires that one be centered themselves. The process starts at your core, and travels your limbs outwards, through your arms and into the clay, down your legs and into the earth. I cannot center (myself or the clay on the wheel) if I try to dominate the clay, if I rush or if I expect perfection. 

Centering, in a world off-kilter, will probably be the work of my lifetime. 

What symmetry then, that the finished pot holds the rituals that help us center in our daily lives: our morning coffee, calming tea, a meal shared with friends, flowers picked from the garden and the beach pebbles we bring home in our pockets.

As we hold the pot in our hands and run our thumbs over the surface, smooth like those stones weathered in salt and sea, maybe we can feel the pull towards center.