making is magic
Welcome to my journal.
I’ve been asking myself new questions lately, and I wonder if you are asking them, too.
Can making
(something? anything?)
with our hands
help us heal our own hearts?
I have spent my whole adult life experimenting to find out.
I learned to paint just to watch the colors mix on the paper. I learned to use gold leaf to mimic alchemy, when everything around me felt far less than magical. I learned to embroider so I could feel the thread pull through the fabric, leaving a trail of beauty while I sorted through my thoughts.
I learned to knit so I could use my hand again, after a devastating injury. I learned to throw pottery as a way to ground myself when I thought I might just float away at any moment. I learned to cook so I could try new foods without eating animals. I learned to make clothes as soft as possible so my child could focus on anything other than how uncomfortable they were, whether I started from scratch or adjusted store-bought clothing.
I learned so many crafts (origami, crepe paper flowers, string art, collage, jewelry making) so I could teach my kids that they could make what was in their imaginations appear in the real world. With their own hands. I learned to draw so I could communicate ideas.
I learned reiki so I could work with my body in a new and different way. I make clothes so I can get to know and appreciate my body, and so I can give the many gifts that come with handmade clothing to other people. too. I learned to perfect my hand stitching to imbue my work with love during the last steps of garment construction. I learned to bind books to give the gift of potential in the form of a blank journal to people I love.
Mindfulness has been a welcome by-product of my insatiable curiosity. Not every craft has become my passion, in fact, I’m not even “good” at many of them, but every experiment taught me something new. Something new about the work and about myself. Mostly I learned that there is joy to be found in the doing, no matter the outcome.
I have spent my whole life trying to convince people that what I do isn't magic, but what if it is? What if taking an idea made of nothing and turning it into a thing is a kind of magic?
I have been sewing since I was 5. I made my own clothes starting in high school, but that’s a story for another time. When I started, I was always focused on the end. I couldn't wait to get to the finish line so I could wear what I made. I do things differently now. As in so many other areas of my life, I have learned the value of slowing down. It’s a rebellion of sorts, in a world that’s so fast and stressful. It’s a rebellion of sorts challenging my own very fast mind to slow down.
Although I have a body of work that comes from a great deal of experience, I prefer to enter classes I teach and conversations in general as a fellow explorer, rather than an “expert” because being an expert means there’s not much left to learn. In many ways, I’m as much a student of my craft as I was at 5, sitting in front of my first sewing machine.
What does making mean to you?
“I have spent my whole life trying to convince people that what I do isn’t magic, but what if it is?”