Message from the Potter: What Resilience Really Looks Like

I've been thinking a lot lately about the word resilience.

It's one of those words we use when we talk about people who have made it through hard things.

We say they're resilient as though it's something they simply are—like having brown eyes or curly hair.

But I'm starting to think resilience is less about what you are and more about what you choose.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And, if I'm being completely truthful, sometimes I'd really rather not have to be quite so resilient.

There. I said it.

Resilience Doesn't Mean It Doesn't Hurt

I used to think being resilient meant being strong enough that things didn't knock you down.

I don't believe that anymore.

Things knock us down.

Plans don't work. People disappoint us. Businesses have slow months. Something you've poured your heart into doesn't get the response you hoped for. Life changes the rules without bothering to ask whether you're ready.

Sometimes you lose something you thought would always be there.

Sometimes the future you pictured looks different than the one you're actually living.

And sometimes nothing particularly catastrophic happens at all.

You're simply tired.

You've been carrying too much for too long, and one ordinary Tuesday feels heavier than it has any business feeling.

I think that's important to say.

Because resilience isn't reserved for surviving the enormous things.

Sometimes resilience is getting out of bed.

It's going to work while you're carrying something nobody there knows about.

It's taking care of the people you love when you could use a little taking care of yourself.

It's trying again after rejection.

It's admitting that you're disappointed.

It's asking for help.

Sometimes it's simply making it through today without requiring yourself to have tomorrow figured out.

There probably won't be applause for most of those moments.

But they count.

They absolutely count.

Resilience isn't pretending the hard things don't hurt.

It's what happens next.

It's allowing yourself to say, Well, this isn't what I wanted.

And then, when you're ready, asking:

Okay. What can I do from here?

Resilience in Business

Owning a small business has given me plenty of opportunities to practice this.

There are moments when Crisanthemum Studios feels like everything I've dreamed it could be.

I look around at people creating together, our team, our instructors, pottery filling the shelves, and this community that has embraced us, and I am overwhelmed by what we've built.

Then there are the other moments.

The ones when I look at the numbers, the economy, a slow sales week, or an idea that didn't work quite the way I thought it would and wonder:

How in the world am I going to make all of this work?

Both things can be true.

I can be incredibly proud of what we've accomplished and still worry.

I can celebrate the milestones and still wonder where the next big order will come from.

I can believe deeply in the vision and still have days when carrying the responsibility of that vision feels heavy.

Resilience is holding both.

It's refusing to let one difficult week convince me that everything we've built somehow doesn't count.

It's looking honestly at what's working and what isn't.

It's changing the plan when the plan needs changing.

It's trying another glaze.

Making another piece.

Sending another email.

Having another conversation.

Opening the doors again tomorrow.

Maybe that's one of the reasons pottery makes so much sense to me.

Clay Is Pretty Resilient, Too

Clay teaches you quickly that control is mostly an illusion.

You can weigh it perfectly, center it beautifully, make exactly the form you intended—and then

somewhere between drying, glazing, firing, and opening that kiln, clay may have a completely different opinion.

Potters learn to adapt.

Sometimes the piece can be saved.

Sometimes the unexpected result is actually better.

Sometimes you learn something.

And sometimes you stare at it for a minute, say a few words I probably shouldn't print in a blog, and put it in the reclaim bucket.

Then you make another one.

That's resilience.

Not insisting that everything turn out perfectly.

Trusting yourself enough to keep creating when it doesn't.

And maybe people aren't so different from clay.

Life shapes us.

Sometimes it puts pressure on places we didn't expect.

Sometimes the heat changes us.

Sometimes we crack.

But a crack doesn't erase everything that came before it.

And changing shape doesn't mean we've lost our value.

Maybe resilience isn't about getting back to exactly who we were before something difficult happened.

Maybe it's allowing ourselves to become whoever comes next.

Personally, I'm Learning Something Else

The older I get, the less I believe resilience means doing everything alone.

For a long time, strength meant carrying things.

Fixing things.

Figuring things out.

Keeping everything moving.

But I'm learning there is another kind of strength in allowing other people to carry something with you.

I've experienced that profoundly through this studio.

I've watched people care for this business, protect the vision, take ownership, solve problems, and step in when I couldn't—or simply shouldn't—do everything myself.

And I've had to learn to let them.

That has required its own kind of courage.

Because sometimes accepting care feels far more vulnerable than giving it.

Maybe resilience isn't always about how much weight you can carry.

Maybe sometimes it's recognizing that you were never supposed to carry all of it by yourself.

For Whoever Needs This Today

Maybe you're in a season right now where everything feels good.

If you are, enjoy it.

Really enjoy it.

Don't spend the beautiful days worrying about when the difficult ones might return.

But maybe you're reading this while you're in the middle of something.

Maybe something didn't work out.

Maybe you're worried about money.

Maybe you're starting over.

Maybe you're grieving a version of your life you thought you'd have.

Maybe you're exhausted from being the person everyone else depends on.

Or maybe you're simply having one of those ordinary Tuesdays.

I don't know what you're carrying.

But I hope you'll give yourself credit for still being here.

You don't have to have the whole answer today.

You don't have to turn every difficult experience into a lesson before you're ready.

And you certainly don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt.

Sometimes the next brave thing is very small.

Take the next step.

Make the next decision.

Ask for the help.

Rest if you need to.

And tomorrow, begin again.

Keep Going, But Let It Change You

I don't want the difficult things in life to make me harder.

I want them to make me wiser.

Softer where softness matters.

Braver where courage is required.

And more willing to recognize the people standing beside me.

I want resilience to mean that I can bend without losing who I am.

That I can change direction without believing I've failed.

That I can have a hard day without turning it into a hard life.

And when something doesn't work?

Learn.

Adjust.

Ask for help.

Put it in the reclaim bucket if you need to.

And begin again.

Because resilience isn't about never getting knocked down.

It's knowing that whatever happens next—

you haven't finished creating yet.

With muddy hands and a warm heart,

Cris

The Potter