Fuck, what do I know? The answer I get from many people: children. I love babies, I adore my 2-years-old niece who I spent months with during COVID despite living across the Atlantic. But having children myself? Please no! I knew this at the age of 12 - and that has not changed over the last 20 years. Being a mum is a role I have no interest in playing.
Answer #2: accomplish something meaningful through your work. Well, I love my job and would definitely consider myself ambitious, but do I find it so fulfilling that I want to do nothing else for 12 hours every day, 7 days a week? Certainly not (and I say that having worked for the Google Search Social Impact team for several years).
So, here I was, turning 30 in 2019 - surrounded by friends popping babies left and right; busy with work freshly promoted, but not finding it extremely fulfilling. What’s next?
I had to find myself a hobby! Well, sounds easy if you don’t know me. Let me give you a brief summary of my hobbyless childhood:
- Sports: I am an avid runner now. As a child, I used every single opportunity to get out of gym class. My mum was a nurse, so whenever she had an afternoon shift, I would beg her to stay home to avoid whatever exercise program they had set up for 4-year-olds in the morning.
- Music: While I played keyboard for years, my dad constantly changed the radio station to make me stop singing. This should give you a rough idea on the lack of talent.
- Art: I would constantly argue with my arts teacher about disagreements on my grade
- Tech: I loved math. Unfortunately, me and computers didn’t really connect until I studied Computer Science in college, partially influenced by growing up in basic circumstances in a 500 people village in former East Germany and struggling to have any semi-reliable internet connection set up.
I was willing to give hobbies another try. Living in NYC, the opportunities are rich. As my first endeavor, I signed up for a pottery class in November 2019. And it was love at first sight.
During that time, my stress levels were high - my relationship was going through a rough patch (no, it did not survive), work was busy. I left my first class with bleeding hands from the friction of the wheel, yet I was immediately addicted to the speed of the wheel. The wheel has to turn fast - you can’t stop, you can’t show signs of uncertainty or fear. The level of attention demanded by the pottery wheel blurred out the stress of life, even if just for a few hours.
My Wednesday class quickly became my new alternative for therapy sessions. When COVID hit the world a few months later and the studio kept closing, I felt an immediate gap. This is when I decided to set up my own mini studio at home and there have been no regrets.
As to the original question on the purpose of life: I still have no fucking clue, but my life for sure feels richer with a pottery wheel in it.
