I've had my head down a while now.

I have been feeling wounded, betrayed, and un-trusting of others. I need to release the past and move forward from this moment. And as soon as I commit to that, I find myself right back in the questions; "Why am I here?", "How did I get to this point?", "Why are we collectively where we are?"
My health journey can not be to “get back” to a body that was familiar to me 15 years ago but to create the body I desire to age in. To create comfort and ease from HERE.
My journey of impact can not be to change what has happened, or to right a wrong, but to create what is needed NOW. For Jackson and our family. For my community.
To be willing to let go of ANYTHING that doesn’t serve my son's greatest good has been my focus since September. To set up everything that I can, so that when it becomes necessary, I can surrender his safety. Because it will become necessary.
I keep reading that this is a time of releasing old patterns, that the astrology coming up is an entirely new cycle, and until now I couldn't understand what I needed to release. Old beliefs, blah, blah, blah. Sometimes the spiritual catchphrases become cliche and lose meaning…I haven’t been able to phrase anything that FEELS like it means anything. Whether or not this makes sense to anyone else, I understand what it means and feel connected to it and its message.  
I have often wondered if I have lost connection with all of you because I have been distracted. I hope not. I have to trust that we are all connected, even when we are not together.

I am beginning to collect evidence that perhaps the shift has begun. The grip of stuckness, and stagnation feels just a tiny bit looser these days. Some of that evidence comes in the form of new humans in class, some is in the achievement of showing Personal Landscapes, our small group show of 6 Ceramic Artists at The Anderson Building that is on view through March 26th. Who knew that while I had my head down, i could pull together a show? Now, I do. The coming of Spring and the lightening of days always comes and somehow surprises me everytime. It really does show up. Every year.

My own work with clay recently has been one of being in the present with the piece. Letting it tell me what to do next, despite my inner art school voice telling me I'd better be able to "justify" the choices I'm making later on. Yeah, fuck that right now. I'm putting one foot in front of the other and not asking my feet why. My Word of The Year is CHOICE. Ironically, given what I just said, you might think that doesn't make any sense, but it does. I'm choosing what is right in any given moment, not what I think will be right a week from now or next month, or how someone else is going to perceive the choices I make. It's both freeing and sort of lonely. But it's quiet.
In the quiet, things are shifting. One moment at a time.

        

​

Sometimes, things are just out of your control. 

It's one thing to know this intellectually; it's another entirely to be present with your out-of-control thing and just be with it without trying to wrestle it into compliance with what you want it to be or make it somehow fit with what you had planned. Things just go off the rails on occasion.

The pot you worked so hard on for weeks falls off the shelf and flattens on the floor, gets too dry when you come back to work on it, or flies off the wheel or collapses.

Or perhaps your autistic adult son has a sudden period of behavior so challenging that his program suspends him. He is melting down multiple times a day, and you find yourself in an immediately tiny world of hyper-focus and daily survival.

The pots that collapse or just don't come out as we wanted in the end may seem insignificant when life throws us a seriously fucked up curveball, but they are not.
They are the practice.
They are how we get better at riding the waves of inspiration, disappointment, pride, gratitude, crushing defeat, and abject failure. And then keep going. 

Perhaps we understand this intellectually, but do we truly feel this in the moment? Must we acknowledge the current situation and find peace with it? Should we be "grateful" for the life lesson? 

Hell no.

Riding the wave isn't easy.
When its 20-foot swells and we're hanging on for dear life, it isn't fucking appropriate to be smiling. 
You better be on high alert and sailing the shit out of your boat, or you're going to drown. 
But can you be ok with feeling like you could drown at any moment? That is the challenge.

On the flip side, when you're in a flow, can you ride that wave without unintentionally waiting for the "other shoe to drop"?

******

I was in a groove with the new studio configuration, plans for more frequent workshops, and building this business. My son, Jackson (23 with profound autism and intellectual disability) was in a program, doing well, and after many years of uncertainty, I felt like I could move forward with something I loved, something for me.

Cue the dropping of said "other shoe"—a lead boot right on my head.

Major aggressive behaviors that resulted in his being suspended from his program and home with us. All day and night.

What should I DO? That's always the first question, right? What to do?

Can I save this pot? What if I pretend I meant it to be this way? If I cut off this part, or try to re-attach the broken piece...? At what point do I say, that's enough and start with new clay, seek help with a new technique, or ask more questions along the way to prevent the same outcome?

Of course, we can take actions to improve things with my son, to help him feel better.
A new medication.
Well, that made things markedly worse! All-day aggression. Fear and heartbreak.
Now, what to do?
Suddenly, our world became the four walls of our house, and everything outside of that became secondary.

All of YOU, all of my passion, much of my joy.
Secondary.
Not a good feeling.
What to DO? How to ride this wave?

What I learned over my way too many years is that to push away feelings of despair, pain, heartache, sadness, fury, and even resentment is to prolong them.
To be with them is hard.

It's not easy to let go of the fact that this piece simply isn't going to work with my current skill set or at this moment. I could keep trying the same techniques, but perhaps it's best to just put it to the side for a bit. Go back to basics. Sit with the discomfort and just be with what is. Get support. Ask for help. Ask questions.

This is much easier to do with support, being seen and heard without judgment, with community.

I tell you all of this because I am adamant that we are a community—a community of seekers, learners, artists, and fellow humans on the same journey through life on this planet. Because I can't be anything other than authentically myself. Also, thank you for your kindness and understanding these past couple of weeks. For holding space for me, whether you knew you were doing that or not.
Let's keep making. Together. Let's help each other to keep going when we think it's no use and to let go when it's time. Let's ask more questions, be curious, kind, and compassionate, and always, always, come back to the practice.
Thank you, my friends.

I was sure I missed the boat on Thursday night seeing the aurora. But lo and behold, there was another round and I was gifted this view.!

We are in a better place this week.
​Registration is open for next session which begins on Oct. 28th, and we have made some movement to have support for Jackson so I can focus on all of you.

Technically, it's still May, so I've gotten this one under the wire, but things are heating up!

I often feel a lot of frenetic energy around this time of year. Suddenly, it seems that a million things are happening, and I feel like I walked into class late and am trying to catch up. I need to make a conscious effort to focus on what is important to me, and not get distracted by the energy of the season, buzzing like a ravenous spring bee looking for nectar.

This is where working with clay helps me. It's grounding to squeeze, press, and mold something so connected to the earth. It's centering to focus on the piece and let the rest of what is flitting around in my mind get quiet and fall away. When I take that time to work with clay, I find myself more easily focused on what else I need to do without as much anxiety and stress.

That said, I am keeping this one short and informative!

How do you ground and center yourself with all that is happening this season? I know it's a busy season. Consider making your time with clay YOUR time to settle and focus!

Much love,

Jane

​​I didn't understand this when I was younger. I am fiercely independent, and I thought that meant that because I like to do things on my own, having help or support told others that I couldn't do it on my own, making me less valuable.

I held on to that thinking through a couple of iterations of myself as a massage therapist and yoga instructor, opening businesses that ultimately left me overwhelmed. Because I had no community. It was just me, trying to do everything, with no one to bounce ideas off of or be on the journey with me.

That changed when I opened Squatter Potters and asked Vicki to come and teach in the studio. She was "in" immediately and fully on board with my desire to create a welcoming, inclusive, judgment-free studio that provided not only quality instruction, but human connection and support at a time when we were all gingerly emerging from our isolation following the pandemic shutdowns. She got my vision right away and has shown me that not only do I not have to do it alone, but that it is more fun, more creative, and ultimately more productive to do this with others.

Now, Vicki needs our support as a community as she begins her cancer battle. We will be there for her every step of the way, sending love, holding her place, and cheering her on.

I will teach her Wednesday and Thursday classes through the summer, and possibly into the fall, but she will return as soon as possible. As devastating as this is, her inability to "play with clay" as she always says, is among the hardest pills to swallow.

I wouldn't have been able to bring this studio to life without her help. I am so grateful. Please join me in wishing her strength, stamina, joy, laughter, and complete healing so she can return to us as soon as possible!

 Much love,
Jane

I tend to curse a lot when I am creating. Specifically, when I am hand-building. As I’m working out the structure of a sculpture, getting the clay to go where I want, or finessing a texture or curve, I have a specific intention of what I want to happen, and if it doesn’t, I tend to have a vocal outburst. I realize this may be disruptive in a community space, so I need to work on that. It can be alarming to hear someone exclaim, “C**ks***er!” suddenly. My fellow artists may think something drastic has gone wrong and it takes their attention from their own work to me, to see if I need tending of some kind. Not fair. In my defense, it’s not directed at anyone but myself, and it’s not even meant in a negative way most of the time. As I’ve considered this “habit” and the purpose it serves, I realize that it’s likely a release of energetic “charge”. As I work, I’m quite intent and focused, and I’m seeing the piece a couple of steps ahead of where I am as I work to create it. Suddenly, I make a “misstep”, and something goes off. It takes me out of my concentration and focus and an obstacle is thrown in my path. What do I do? I react and expel that energy in the form of an expletive. Sometimes, if a piece is collapsing for example, I do need to react quickly, but other times, I COULD take a step back, breathe and choose how I desire to RESPOND rather than react.

This is reflective of how I can react/respond to obstacles that appear suddenly in life. Sometimes, I react as though a true crisis is at hand. I can then, assess the situation for its factual impact, and respond accordingly. This is a trauma response. This is, “Oh my God! I am under threat! I need to do something, quick!”.

I have in fact, worked a great deal with how I respond to life’s “obstacles” so that I don’t instantly react as if the sky is falling, but last night, I realized that this pattern is still playing out in my creative process. 

This is why I love the creative process, with clay in particular because it is so visceral for me. It’s three-dimensional, its formative, it’s tactile, and the process of moving creative energy/ideas from my imagination to physical form feels so primary. 

My yoga practice allowed me to discover things about myself as I encountered resistance or felt challenged by a particular posture, or breath practice. What about this posture is challenging? What am I resisting? What happens if I back off and approach this with modification, or does it feel ok to stay and face the edge of discomfort so I can move through? Am I repeating only what is comfortable? Am I avoiding certain practices altogether, and does that serve me?

These are questions I asked myself as I found myself swearing like a sailor last night. What is this about? What is this telling me? Am I responding or reacting to a challenge, and how might I bring more mindfulness to this so I can choose how I desire to respond? Does this serve me? If so, how?

Are you reacting or RESPONDING to your life’s challenges? What information are you gaining from that observation? What adjustments or modifications might you make so that you are responding from a place that serves you in a positive way? Or is your response serving you just as you need? 

I’d love to hear from you, and your experience with these musings from a foul-mouthed potter.


 Much love,
Jane

PS: I’d love to hear from you, and your experience with these musings from a foul-mouthed potter. Comment to let me know what's on your mind.

We hope to make this a regular occurrence. We will update you about workshops, class registration, and other things we think might be of interest to our community. Please feel free to share this with anyone who might enjoy it or be interested in what we are up to.

This inaugural edition is a little about me, Jane, and the driving force behind this endeavor.

I knew forever that I wanted to be an artist. Both of my parents were artists, and we had an art closet full of fancy, magical colored paper, Magic Markers that smelled a certain way, kneaded erasers that stood in as silly putty for me, and all kinds of tools in a room that doubled as a den and a studio. It was my favorite place when I was young and looking for something to do. Of course, I was going to be an artist! I played the part throughout school, never quite fitting the mold of my fellow female classmates; always thinking a bit further, questioning why, and refusing to completely comply. So I thought art school would be the place for me. 

As it turned out, I didn't belong there either. 
Not "intellectual" enough. 
Not "rebellious" enough. 
Too "mainstream". 
I still wouldn't comply and they did not like it one bit. 
So I eventually walked away. 
I couldn't take the "art world" and all of the BS about who and what I was supposed to be and want and deliver. 

So I turned to the healing arts. Massage Therapy, Yoga, and Reiki. I found a community of like-minded people; people devoted to acceptance of each other and themselves, and a recognition of how difficult that is with all our cultural conditioning. We are all one, but we can't agree, and we can't get along, and we can't love each other, and we certainly can't love ourselves.
I transformed and grew and finally allowed myself to please myself FIRST. And to trust that from there, what I needed, what I desired my life to be, would reveal itself. And what was revealed was that something was missing. 
ART. 
I needed to BE an artist. 
I had been doing ceramics for almost 20 years, but considering myself an artist was still not something I felt comfortable with. So I used all my healing arts tools to dig a little deeper, to uncover what was holding me back. 
What was still missing? 
Connection. Community. Belonging.

Building and supporting a creative community is one of my greatest visions for Squatter Potters. 

Not only do I want our students to learn techniques and improve their skills, I also deeply desire to build a community of support, encouragement, allowance, acceptance, and belonging. A place where we, in the making of art, make ourselves whole, loved, and complete. At least for the time that you are in our space. Whether you consider yourself an "artist" or not is not important, or the point. For me, this is about human connection and what we are missing in society so profoundly. Lofty goals for a ceramic studio? I suppose, and I know in my soul that it doesn't matter. It also doesn't matter if this all sounds a little too "woo-woo" for you. You will still learn how to make a pot. Or a bowl. Or a sculpture. And, you might inadvertently also make a connection. With someone else, or with a part of yourself you have long forgotten.


Finally, please let me know your thoughts, if you'd like to hear more (or less), and if there are any specific things we can address, teach, or include in the offerings at Squatter Potters. We are so glad you are part of our community.

Much love,
Jane

PS: I do want your feedback; About this email, or anything on your mind about the studio. Hit REPLY to let me know what's on your mind.