slow sewing or big goals?
slow sewing or big goals?
Why not both?
I’ve been twisted up in this false dichotomy for many years now, but since first my body and then the pandemic have forced me to slow down, this pair of options have come into sharp relief. I will always have big plans, but I’ve learned that deliberate steps still get me there...someday. I’m embracing slowing down, doing more by hand, and focusing on the process in every area of my life.
““Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.””
It’s so simple (and yet so difficult!) to intentionally slow down. To choose to rest and take a more intentionally mindful pace, when my default setting is one million miles per minute has been a challenge. At the same time, to see big plans still rolling forward, things I dreamt so long ago, is confirmation that some things just take time. The right timing is not always my first choice.
Even though yoga is at home now, (infinite daily thanks to YWA) I will never forget how ironically stressful it was for me to hurry to yoga class only to arrive sweaty and breathless. It meant the first few minutes of class were wasted, rewinding myself back into neutral, while supposedly on my way into mindfulness. Slowing down to approach exciting projects is a little counterintuitive, but I’ve learned my lessons from all those yoga classes where I didn’t get to choose a spot because I arrived at the last minute.
Experimenting with time requires a certain baseline of trust.
Rushing can give the impression that we’re more in control, or that we’ll have time left over. In my experiments lately - this year anyway - I’m finding that’s not the case at all. When I settle into a project, I’m more likely to find that my deliberate pace flows along and I lose track of time. I can become so immersed in projects when I choose one big thing each day (instead of 30) that synchronicities show up and make work lighter for me. I’ll see the big picture while I’m in the details. I’ll get a text with a request that requires and provides efficiency at the same time. Right on time. It’s magic, and it’s real.
Have you noticed this in your own life?
Back in time to visit my père-père
About a year ago, when the stay-at-home orders first started here in Seattle, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with my time. It was more like I didn’t quite know what to do with my hands.
Everybody knows that the washing machine and dryer eat socks. Or at least they separate socks from their twins. What we do in this family is collect all of the lonely socks in a bag near the dryer and every three or four months or so, I declare The Great Sock Sort of (insert date here). Last year at this time, I discovered quite a few of those socks (mostly expensive smartwool socks) had holes in the heels and various other places. I had just purchased a lovely teapot from Miro here in town, and it came with two small, round tea cups. One of these glass cups was the perfect size to fit inside the heel of a sock. It was so much better than a tennis ball, because I seem to sew the sock right into the fuzz of the ball, damaging the darning I just created. I didn’t have any way to get ahold of a specialty darning egg in the beginning of the pandemic, so I used the glass. It just felt right. I could stuff it with light colored fabric to provide contrast to dark socks so I could easily identify the weak spots, and it was easy to hold.
One day on a phone call with my father, I told him about how I’d been spending my time. He excitedly recounted to me a story from his childhood. He said that my grandfather would ask all his kids to bring their socks down to him while he watched TV and relaxed every Sunday afternoon. Supplied with a needle, scrap yarn and thread, and a simple glass, he would pass the time by mending the family’s socks, using the glass to provide shape and to protect his fingers. I thought I had invented this ingenious hack, but it was part of my heritage all along. My père-père passed away when I was in high school, but he’s close to me now when I’m darning socks.
In late 2019 I held a Mending Lab as a fundraiser at Cura Co in the Central District. People brought their broken things and for a small donation to the Refugee Artisan Initiative, I repaired them on the spot. As I mended the items, I demonstrated how it was done so the people who owned the garments could learn to fix their other things at home. Some people sat across the table from me, working on a different section of the same project. Some people talked about the importance of the item they wanted repaired. It was lovely. I want to do that again.
We’re still at home around here, but in the meantime we have zoom and we likely have things we want to fix, so I’ve launched an experiment. I call it the Quarterly Mending Lab. Each session will have a theme, but of course you can bring whatever you like. I’ll send out a supply list and a recipe for a beverage, and prepare a short demonstration based on the theme. The first one is Sunday, March 21, 2021 from noon-2pm pacific time. Registration is available through this link, and it’s set up to pay what you wish (‘free’ is always an option!) so please join me if you’re at all interested in a little slowing down, a little togetherness, and a little lesson and Q&A! Mending is very satisfying, and a super low-risk/high-reward entry into hand sewing.
My inbox is always open. I'd love to hear how you're slowing down (or not?). Thanks for being my pen pal.
