Story of OVU

Chapter 1: The Clay's First Awakening

In the fourth year of my career, my fingertips truly met clay for the first time.  
The nerve endings, numbed by digital calendars and performance metrics, suddenly came alive—  
The damp grains slipped beneath my nails, as if the earth itself was whispering,  
"Do you remember how to breathe?"

As the wheel spun, I saw my years of tension take shape as a trembling column of clay.  
Yet it didn’t collapse; instead, in one fleeting moment, it gracefully curved into a bowl.  
In that instant, I understood:  
Clay knows how to exist far better than I ever could.
        
Chapter 2: The Tenth Attempt

On a quiet winter night in 2024, my workbench was cluttered with failed teapots:
        
The spout curled too gently, stifling the tea’s flow;  
The lid and body refused to align;  
The handle was too delicate, searing my palm with every pour.
        
On my fourteenth firing, the teapots I had meticulously crafted fell short of my vision. Yet the one I added almost as an afterthought, merely to fill the kiln, emerged as the closest to what I had imagined.  
In that moment, I realized:  
Control is an illusion; beauty emerges from the cracks of surrender.
        
Chapter 3: A Dialogue Without Force  

Now, my OVU journal reads:  
"Let the clay and serendipity shape 10% of the path."  
When the seventh attempt faltered, the crack in the eighth became the perfect place for the teapot’s knob;  
A firing gone awry might still yield unexpected treasures;  
The edges of my sketches remain blank, always leaving room for unexpected inspiration.
        
This teapot greets me every morning, cradling my first brew,  
As I savor that sip, lose myself in a book, and then meditate.
        
Epilogue: The Encounter Yet to Come

When the first OVU teapot finds its way into a stranger’s hands,  
I hope they feel not just the clay,  
But a moment in a bustling night or a hurried dawn, a fleeting moment when a city dweller rediscovers the act of breathing and turns inward.