Sometimes I think the real skill isn't in shaping the clay, but in knowing when to let it slump a little, let it find its own rest. The cracks are where the light gets in, they say, but more often, the cracks are just cracks. It's the holding of the shape, despite them, that's the thing. The kiln doesn't care if you're feeling it today. It's tempting to force the bloom, to keep fussing when the roots need darkness and quiet. I forget that sometimes the most skillful thing is to just step away, trust the process, and accept that some things will blossom on their own time, or not at all.