Last week was heavy on the “refresh” button. I’m sure you know those weeks, where it all feels like every second is another chance to hit “refresh.” Refresh. Drink some tea. Refresh. Do a little work. Refresh. Go say hi to your co-worker. Refresh. Drink some more tea. Refresh. Refresh. And so on.
This weekend was one of waking up early, doing laundry, cooking for the rest of the week, scrubbing grout, doing more laundry, vacuuming (getting out the crevice tool!), buying groceries, and running errands. A weekend away from the refresh button, and largely away from technology entirely.
Now it’s Sunday night; I find myself creeping back to technology, wondering where the weekend went, then remembering when I see my clean house and the cooked food in in the fridge.
And I wonder if perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I love stitching so much; it marks our time. It shows us in no uncertain way that we were there, we had a quiet moment with our thoughts (or with our friends and/or family) where time was marked and there was no wondering what we did with that time.
It reminds us to take some time for ourselves, doing what we want, instead of plodding along solely doing what has to be done (like most of my weekend) and what we think should be done (hitting refresh waiting for a response in our favor).
While you may be with a group or by yourself, either way it’s still very much just you and your work. Marking time in a very literal way. It shows us quietly how time moves on, no matter how hard we try to hold on to it. Even if we must pick out stitches, the yarn feels different never to be the same again, the linen bears the holes, nothing is ever the same again as it once was.
It’s a moment. It’s a breather. It’s “just one more row.” It’s feeling the thread as it get pulled through the aida cloth. It’s a microcosm of where our mind should be all the time. Not hitting refresh expecting something that may never come, not spending our time solely crossing off to-do lists.
But while we’re stitching, we’re there. Active, but not harried. Making something from nothing. Bringing forth new work into an old world. As the new week begins, may you find time to do work just for you this week, to remember that time is passing, and slipping, like a needle through cloth.