Quieting the Monkeys

Have you ever seen the cartoon that shows a woman's mind vs. a man's? The one where the guy sits in front of the computer, just plodding away, just one tab open. On the other hand, the woman has a gazillion (former math teacher here) tabs open and seems to be actively engaged with each one. That's me. That's my mind.

Another way  of saying it, I've got a lot of mind monkeys, most of them doing some really odd things.

So, I've been looking for ways to close some of the tabs, to oust some of those darn monkeys.

Photography is one; slow stitching is another.

There's just something about it that calms me; the rhythmic in and out of the needle, the putting together of odd pieces to make something brand new. The squares are tiny, just 4" X 4", so technically, it should be a fairly quick project. Technically.

Because, you see, some of the above mentioned monkeys begin to chatter. If I don't listen, they chatter louder.

My stitching is crooked and not evenly sized of spaced.

I answer with a resounding, "Yep." 

The idea is that it shouldn't matte; this isn't the time to worry about stellar stitching or an amazing end product. 

It's time to get lost in the process, to just be.

But those damn monkeys just get louder, and I've been known to tear out the stitches that I'm not supposed to worry about, let alone tear out. 

Sometimes I manage it, manage to leave in all the wonderful wonkiness.

I wish those times were more frequent.

Most of the time, I grab a fabric that appeals and just begin. 

I'm not supposed to worry about all the bits and pieces going together, but sometimes I do.

This morning I read/wrote about letting go of expectations in my morning pages. Obviously, my letting go is a real work in process, because I do fuss at times. These tiny squares can take several days if I'm having a really tough time letting go. 

But this last square, "Evidence," was planned. The two background, the blue and the off white with brown stripes, came from Phil's shirts that could no longer be worn to the office. They'd been washed at least one too many times. So, I salvaged what I could. 

I liked the idea of creating a stitch meditation recycling these cast offs.

The green, and the pinkish circle, came from a gellli printing class many years ago. 

The black bit and the word, evidence, are the only "new" bits. 

Evidence can be defined as "remains" and "remnants." Discovering that tiny bit buried in my stash seemed to be a perfect find. It fits.

It feels good to be back doing this again.

It does seem to corral some of the monkeys, to close down some of the open tabs.

I'm working on quiet.

I'm working on stillness.

I'm working on letting go.

Slow Stitching and Learning Curves

I finished it! Hours upon hours of eco printing and then slow stitching the results. Learning the stitches as I went.

I'm in love with this little journal, the way it feels, the promise of making even more magic on its inside pages.

And, I love the eco printed scarves behind it. Pure magic!

I even managed a bit of very basic beading. Very basic was about all I could handle, and just one of the learning curves I mumbled (and yes, swore) my way through. This leaf called for beads, and thanks to Google and a few books, I fumbled my way through it. I pat these beads each time I go by.

It's hard to believe that this gorgeous journal cover began as a wool blanket rescued from a thrift shop. Washed and felted, cut into size, and put into a packet of goodies...bits of silk, watercolor papers, and more, then opened up in class at Lesley Riley's Red Thread Retreat taught by the wonderful Leslie Marsh.  Twenty some women gathering leaves, immersing them in boiling water or steam, and cooking them for hours, all of it done in a very steady rain. We must have been quite the sight.

It's hard to resist unwrapping them right away, and it's like Christmas day, complete with heart felt oohs and aahs. You never really know what you're going to get. Sometimes, not much of anything, which while there's momentary disappointment, you know that you can over dye it and quite possibly get magic. See the blue leaves? They began as tiny red leaves before nature, some rusty bits, and more lent their magic.

There are 8 sets of signatures in this little book. Each signature holds 4 pages, and the whole thing is bound around gathered sticks. True confession: Being tired, but not willing to wait, I cut my first set of sticks way too short. Finding me wandering through our yard and gathering sticks, my youngest son suggested cutting some of the bamboo growing in the back. I cut them down to size, let them harden up for a few days, and stitched away. The first few signatures nearly proved to be my undoing (Talk about awkward...), but I'd come this far, and by God, this book would be coming together. The whole binding bit is a bit funky, and I love it.

The signatures are eco-printed water color pages done using the immersion method. We layered 4 sets of pages with all sorts of gathered leaves, rolled them around copper pipes, making sure to get good contact, and then wrapped them with string or rubber bands. I'll be adding precious bits here and there - leaves encased in mica, bits of poetry and more. Each page, in time, will let me know what it wants.

I've always loved seeing these fabrics and books, and in a few short weeks, I hope to be doing more. Leaves, I've got. Our heavily treed yard will supply me with more than I could ever use. I need to order more scarves (Christmas presents) and will be on the hunt for old wool blankets to use. I've got a stash of silk and linen bits to play with. I've gathered up old pots to use. Now, as soon as the budget permits, I'll be ordering my camp stove to cook on, and a few other miscellaneous goodies. In the meantime, I'll learn as much as I can about the process, and I'll be dreaming of cooking leaves.

 

Monday, Monday

Outside my window, bare branches rest against a heavy gray sky, looking far more winter like than the first day of spring.

I am thinking that this budget bit is a load of crap and in now way compassionate. It seems to strike at those who need the help the most. No kid should be hungry, nor should any senior. Such tiny parts of the budget in the grand scheme of things. It breaks my heart.

I am thankful for what I have, and I'm struggling to keep that in the front of my mind and to not let worry overwhelm me. Yes, I'm thinking about myself here, the potential for horrible health care costs just when we need it the most. Who knows about social security....not an entitlement in my mind. I've paid into that baby for years and years and years. So many friends and relatives in the same boat. So, I pray for them, for us, and for everyone, really.

I am wearing jeans, an old school t-shirt, and a sweater to take off the chill. Cleaning clothes that I don't need to worry about as I delve into closets to de-clutter and sort. There's a pile of packages ready for Goodwill.

I am creating clean space to rest my eyes on. I love seeing this space come into being. And, of course, I'm creating these tiny stitch as meditation squares. They calm my monkey mind and make me happy. So much color and texture, and the in and out repetition of the hand stitching soothes my soul.

I am reading the New York Times and Washington Post to try to stay informed. I am not reading most of what flies across Facebook, no matter what the party. Fake news seems to be a mainstay of both sides, and it's all a lesson in patience and trying to figure out what's really happening. It's also enough to make my eyes cross.

I am hoping people can learn to think a bit more and not just react. To work for what's good for us as a country, not just what our particular party wants to happen. Mostly, I hope people can really begin to just be kind to one another. It doesn't cost much to do so, and the pay off is huge.

I am hearing traffic make its way along Old Keene Mill Road, and the voices of students walking home. A few birds chatter noisily, and Mr. Crow scolds us all.

Around the house, floors wait to be mopped, laundry piles up, and boxes wait to be carted away. The twits' toys can be found almost anywhere, including robotic monkeys and Native American projects. Crayons, glue, felt, and more give evidence that creativity happened, and that makes me smile. Other things wait for their assigned spots as I continue this de-cluttering project.

One of my favorite things, homemade nut roll, whispers, "Come eat me," from the kitchen. I don't think it has to worry; I've already put a healthy dent into it!

A few plans for this week:

 - more decluttering and sorting

 - a start to spring cleaning

 - editing photos

 - creating and sending snail mail

 - stitch meditations each day

 - grocery shopping and more

Happy Spring!!!

Stitching Like A Drunken Sailor

I've been itching for some time to play with needles, thread, and material. Just plain itching to play. But - I grew up when you took Home Ec in high school, and when cross stitching was the rage. Everyone, every teacher, particularly Anna Hamilton, my high school home ec gal, emphasized precision. Each and every stitch needed to be just so: the perfect exact length, the perfect spacing, and by God, what ever it was I did had to look just as good from the back. My backs were a holy mess, designed to make poor Anna shudder in dismay.

No one had yet to embrace the wabi sabi approach. No one liked, yet alone loved, wonky stitches.

My work always looked like a drunken sailor had gone at it.

Now, no offense to sailors, drunk or otherwise. "Like a drunken sailor" happens to be one of my dad's pet phrases. He took great delight in using it, especially when he viewed his offspring's and their children's first attempt at navigating kayaks. Since dad dropped out of high school to join the navy during WWII and told stories of his youthful escapades while on active duty, I suspect he knows a great deal about sailors, drunk or otherwise.

Then, just a few weeks ago, I found Liz Kettle and slow stitching. My Lord, I love this woman. She embraces wonky stitches, explaining that each needle went in and out just where it was supposed to be. She emphasizes that your stitches can be differently sized, uneven, crooked or more. And, as you can see, I embraced this process with a passion.

Liz just follows a few basic rules:

1. Don't spend more than two or three minutes picking out you fabric remnants.
2. Never, ever, rip out a stitch. It's fine.
3. It doesn't matter what color thread you use. Just grab one and get started.
4. The piece will let you know when it's finished; trust your gut.

Liz's slow stitching is her meditation, her way to ground herself each morning. She completes a square each morning before she goes running. I complete one every few days.

Stitching is so new to me; I did cross stitch, but there are wonderful little grids to follow when you cross stitch. I stand a fighting chance to make respectable looking stitches, at least on the front. Just don't look at the back, okay? Miss Anna Hamilton will be shuddering in her grave if you do that, and she'll claim no knowledge what so ever of me.

True confession time - I break Liz's rules.

I can spend a long time choosing my fabric, playing with one color after another, mixing and matching my pieces. This morning, for the first time, I managed to choose quickly. Maybe it comes with practice?

I loved her class at Artistic Artifacts in Alexandria, VA. (If you are a fabric and thread lover, this is your place. It's like going to heaven...fabrics from all over the world. Heaven in the form of colors and textures!)

I loved the class, but I tried to kind of hide myself. This group of women seriously knew what they were doing. Awesome, tiny, straight stitches completed in a heart beat. This newbie stood out and not in the star of the class type of way.

Another part of my confession: I rip out stitches. They're still wonky, they're still looking like a drunken sailor took this class. But, the more of these little babies I do, the less ripping out I do.

I'm learning to live with the wabi-sabi-ness of it all and have managed to deafen my inner critic (aka Anna Hamilton). And the stitches are getting smaller, tinier, and just looking better. Not great, but better. I can live with better.

And, even though these ladies overwhelmed me with their talent and expertise, they were a friendly bunch, and never criticized my feeble attempts.

Thank you, ladies!

As I worked my way through the class, fortified with a bit of wine, (These ladies know how to have a class on a Friday night. The wine certainly didn't help my stitching, and I never came anywhere near the drunken sailor level, but it helped with not completely despairing of it all.) I learned a lot.

I learned that cheap needles will create headaches. They don't go through the fabric as smoothly; they tend to snag. I now own some Tulip brand needles.

I also learned that crewel needles are awesome; no matter the size of the needle tip, they have a really huge eye. For those of us whose own eyes are lacking in sharpness, crewel needles are a blessing.

I learned that I love these little square works of art. They're 4" X 4", so that they don't become a "project."

And, I learned that I love fabric, and I love hand stitching.

Right now, I'm pretty focused on making the needle do what I want it to do, but with 4 pieces down and 1 started this morning, I'm finding a rhythm, and things are going more quickly and easily.

Even though I have to work at it, or think about it, there's a calmness about it all, and a timelessness as well. It's certainly a one of a kind result.

If you're intrigued, Liz has a wonderful video on the whole process, and she explains it far better than I can here. You can find her video at: http://www.textileevolution.com/index.php/easyblog/entry/stitch-meditations (Sorry, it doesn't seem to want to hyperlink!)

The site is a wealth of info on stitching, hand and by machine. Liz has published some great books, and you'll also find samples of her own squares.

A few notes:

I didn't include my class square. That poor baby just wants to hide her pathetic-ness away from the world. I'm keeping her to remind me of how far I'm coming, but I'm letting her hide.

The squares appear in the order I've completed them.

Square 1: that awesome piece of netting like material comes from an old bridal gown donated to a thrift shop. The gown was so badly stained, that the shop could not sell it. I got it in another class, where we ripped up that gown and used ever bit we could. This netting comes from the crinoline under the gown! Lesson learned: I need to haunt thrift shops to get my fabric stash where it needs to be.

Square 2: the material that forms the smallest dotted rectangle is a piece of an old scarf. Fun!

Square 3: Ah...fibers! I can use funky fibers that I love, but that I have no idea what to do with. I've never mastered knitting, crochet, etc.

Square 4: The blue piece with black "flowers" is a piece I created in a fabric gelli printing class. It began as white muslin.