Sometimes the clay fights you, cracks in the kiln, glazes run where they shouldn't. But every failure is just more grog to add to the next batch. The wheel doesn't care about my intentions, only my pressure. It'll spin on, indifferent, until I learn to meet it where it is, not where I WANT it to be. Years to learn that, and I still forget. It's a hard truth, that resistance isn't personal. The universe is just…operating. My anger or frustration is just the friction of me trying to force something that isn't meant to be, not yet, or not in that way.