Making slowness.
Previously published on Substack 2/12/25.
I used to be a maker, but then I thought I wasn’t.
It turns out I still am a maker, a crafter, or at the very least (or most) a lover of textiles. My making just needed a vacation, a rest, a respite. The whispers of wanting to feel the softness of fabric on my fingertips surprisingly returned, so I obliged the call and began one day by simply threading a needle.
The next day, I stitched slowly with the sole (soul) purpose of feeling the rhythm of the needle moving up and down through the cloth. I am a maker of presence through each stitch I stitch in devotion to living a harmonious life. The softness and the slowness bring balance as I dedicate myself to living a life full of beauty, even when I am feeling pinched by the universe.
“Use what you have,” I hear. This has been a message since last fall when it became apparent that my husband and I were entering a winter season of our finances once again. Ouch—it hurt to be in this place of restriction, of tightness, of not knowing when the flow of cash would find us again.
This leads me to the boxes and bins in our garage, where we store our belongings at our rental house. This leads me to search for what is already nourishingly available and waiting for me. This leads me to a jar of dried red clover blossoms I picked for tea from our backyard in Maine three years ago and an open bag of hazelnuts we bought in Boise two years ago. This leads me to the basket full of fabric and the wooden bowl of embroidery thread I have had for about the same amount of time, if not longer. This leads me to the art supplies that are currently in use for my Postcard Project. This leads me to remember the work I put into my book and to remember trust—trust in the flow; we will be reunited soon.
Once again, the Art of Simplicity I wrote about last month finds me. I embrace what I already have and feel the abundance of the present moment—the freedom to write on this platform, the wealth of books at the library, and the endless beauty of nature just outside my window.
