I Want to Be Like Clay
That might sound like a strange thing to say—I want to be like clay. But hear me out.
Clay is moldable, shapable, flexible. It can become whatever you imagine. It can start out as one thing, based on a plan, and completely transform mid-process as inspiration strikes or a new direction appears. It’s not rigid—it’s responsive. And as humans, we need to be like that.
I’ve had more than a dozen career paths—maybe I’m exaggerating, or maybe I’m not. Either way, none of my original plans worked out. I wasn’t “allowed” to pursue anything artistic. If I had, my parents would’ve cut ties. So, I joined the military as an MP. Later, I earned 90% of a Computer Science degree but couldn’t pass Calculus II. The only professor who taught it told me I was “too stupid” to help—his words, not mine. I was confident in algebra, trig, statistics, and discrete math, but that one class—taught by a man who wrote with both hands simultaneously—became an immovable roadblock. Without Calc II, there was no BS in Computer Science.
So I graduated with a BA in Russian, a minor in web design (which I’d only done for fun), and no clear way to use either in a meaningful career. I was two classes and one internship shy of the CS degree. I got married two months after graduation, and life pivoted. I worked at HP, got pregnant, went on bed rest—and everything changed again.
Since then, I’ve explored a wide range of creative paths: web design, graphic design, game design, animation, 3D modeling, level design. I’ve returned to painting, learned sculpting and pottery, drawing, quilling, welding, jewelry making—the list goes on. I’m not afraid of learning anymore. The only thing that still gives me pause is maybe… calculus. But otherwise, I know I can learn anything. I can become anything. And that’s why I want to be like clay.
Clay Can Be Made Anew
Sometimes we shape clay into something, let it sit, and it becomes bone dry. Set. Unchangeable. It looks like it’s destined to become one thing and one thing only. But what if it’s not right? What if you drop it and it shatters? Is that the end?
Not at all.
You add water. You wedge it. You work it. And it becomes soft, pliable, and fresh again. Clay can be reconstituted—reborn. With clay, you get do-overs. Every failed attempt is a chance to learn. If it didn’t work, you’re not stuck. You can try again. You can change direction. You can reshape your future.
Be like clay—be willing to start over.
Clay Can Be Fired to Last Forever
When clay is fired, it becomes ceramic—strong, enduring, nearly indestructible. Archaeologists uncover pieces thousands of years old, still bearing the marks of the people who made them. It takes fire to make something permanent.
Humans, too, are shaped by fire—by trials, by struggle, by pressure. Those moments harden us, but they also define us. They make us lasting. Durable.
Be like clay—own your transformation and honor the strength forged by the fire.
Even Broken Ceramics Can Become More
Sometimes the pot cracks. The bowl shatters. Maybe it broke in the kiln. Maybe it slipped from your hands. Is it ruined?
Not necessarily.
Some of the most beautiful and valuable ceramic pieces are ones that broke—and were repaired with gold. Kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending pottery with precious metals, doesn’t hide the break. It highlights it. Celebrates it. Elevates the piece beyond its original form.
Even shards can become something new: a mosaic. Something different. Something whole in a new way.
Be like clay—know that your broken parts can still make beauty. Your cracks are not the end of your story.
And Me? I’m Still Becoming
I find hope in thinking of myself as clay. I’ve been shaped, reshaped, torn down, reworked, and reimagined. I’ve started over more times than I can count. I’ve thought I was “set”—skilled, sure of my path—only to be shattered into pieces.
Right now, I’m in the middle of another transformation. I don’t know exactly what I’m becoming. I’m gathering my fragments, testing combinations, trying to see what new form I might take.
Will I become a programmer? A graphic designer? Will I build a business from the ground up? I don’t know yet.
But I do know this: I’ll be like clay. I’ll rework what’s broken. I’ll fill the cracks with gold. I’ll keep becoming something new—something strong, something meaningful, something beautiful.
Because clay survives. And it never stops becoming.