I hope your new year is off to a healthy and happy start. My January was filled with wellness exams, lunches with friends, Mac clients, romps at various neighborhood parks, a speeding ticket followed by online defensive driving school, new glasses, an unexpected new computer, and the official filing of the divorce papers.
Reading through the legal paperwork, I was surprised by all of the emotions I felt, and it took me a few days to move through the new layers of grief and loss. And for the first time I allowed myself to be angry that I had to choose to give up a lifestyle that I really loved.
It’s been so empowering to watch myself move through each emotion as it arises, noticing that I’m feeling all the feelings, but not lingering in any one emotion or memory. I’ve been able to tender myself, talk about my feelings, and give myself full on permission and safety to feel it all.
I’ve also been consciously and actively shifting my focus to welcoming more joy into my life. After the last few years enveloped in so much sadness and grief, it’s time.
I’ve been paying attention to the simple things that make me smile: the perfect, sweet-tart taste of the grapefruits from my trees, playing backgammon in the backyard with a friend on a sunny Sunday afternoon, hearing a friend’s special ring tone when the phone rings, cooking crab cakes in my new air fryer, and all things Tillie. I’m still riding my bike every day, too, and that makes my whole being happy.
And, on a wild whim, I signed up for a free, online stitching camp that offered five days of experimenting with fabric, paint, and stitching. I love looking at all kinds of textile arts, and this seemed like a great opportunity to see if stitching might be my new thing.
I had so much fun gathering my supplies: scrap fabrics that I picked up several years ago at the Latimer Quilt & Textile Center in Tillamook, Oregon, muslin squares from when I made prayer flags, colored yarns from a huge assortment gifted to me by a friend many years ago, a few coordinating spools of thread from my mom’s Danish cookies sewing box, and a few items from my stash in the garage studio for the mark making.
The first lesson was using paint and random tools to make marks on the muslin. After the pieces were dry, I didn’t like the paint colors I chose, so the next day, I re-did the mark making with different colors. The second day we cut up our painted fabrics into 3”x4” pieces and reconnected them to create new designs. And we were supposed to stitch the cut pieces together in the new layout.
My fingers were stiff, the fabric was flimsy, and I struggled to pin the pieces together. I considered gluing them, so that I could continue with the next steps, or borrowing a friend’s sewing machine, but I realized there was no joy in any of it. And so I chose not to continue.
At first I was disappointed that there were no sparks, since I’ve been fascinated with all kinds of textile art for so long. But now I know. It’s kind of like the welding class I took last year. I thought for sure I was going to become a metal artist, but no, the only sparks that day were on the metal.
And so, with all of the things I thought I might love to do now off the table, I am opening to the unknown, to wider possibilities, new energies, and unfathomable opportunities.
Meanwhile, I have gotten my hands back into glue and water, and it is truly my happy place. I had a vision of decoupaging hearts, so I ordered some plastic, fillable hearts, and have made two Full Hearts for friends using their words of the year. (If you’d like me to make you one, I am taking orders.)
I know this is a challenging time of in-between for a lot of people. Almost everyone I talk to seems to be, in one way or another, between what was, and the unknown future. Hobbies that we used to find engaging are no longer interesting, activities we once enjoyed seem like too big a hassle to organize, and we’re just not sure how to reconnect with the world, or ourselves.
It’s as if we’ve outgrown our before-lives, but we have no idea what we want next.
Instead of getting caught in the angst of those extremes, can you simply breathe yourself into this present moment? Because, in the present moment, it is OK to not know. It is OK to not want to do the things you did before. It is OK to take time to feel your way back to yourself.
This time of in-between can be an opportunity to slow down, to notice where you no longer want to expend and share your energies, and pay attention to things that are winking at you from the sidelines.
Give yourself time. Find ways to let go of needing to know, and enjoy the mystery. Be curious without expectations. Say yes to the things that take you to your soft edge. Trust that when you get to the end of all you know, you will fly.
