The Process

So I've been working on Scott's doublet (a sewing project--see Sew*journ). When I had enough of it assembled that it began to look like a proper piece of clothing, I slipped it on to see how it was coming together. The laughter and excitement that welled up inside me when I caught my first glimpse in the mirror so surprised me that I squealed like a delighted little girl. I've been just as happy at each step completed since then. There have been momentary disappointments where I have had to pick out stitches or re-do pieces; but instead of becoming frustrated and slogging through the correction, I found myself noticing what I had done, stepping back, looking at it like a puzzle and devising solutions with which I was ultimately pleased. A far cry from how I reacted only a year ago!

What is it about this activity (sewing) that I love so much? There is a creative element in choosing the patterns and fabrics, and the challenge of putting it all together; an element of risk as I plunge in uncertain of how this or that will turn out (faith?). But otherwise it seems so against type for me. The actual process is about precision, repetition: pin the seam, sew the seam, press as sewn, press it open, press in the direction it will ultimately lie, serge if the edge needs to be finished, edgestitch, topstitch. Repeat for the next seam. I'm usually working alone. I could cheat but there's a satisfaction in doing it well. I should find the whole affair tedious and draining. But instead the hours fly by unnoticed as I get lost in the activity of the moment. I'm surprised to feel my stomach growling so soon, to pick up the ringing phone and hear Scott say he is on his way home from work. Already??

A couple of weeks ago I dragged myself away from my sewing room to make banana nut bread (before the bananas turned completely black!). My first surprise was finding that I still had chocolate chips in the pantry. My second was discovering how much joy I experienced just measuring out the flour! I felt like singing. Always before, measuring and mixing were just things I had to do in order to get what I wanted--a loaf of chocolate chip banana nut bread. What was different about this time?

I wondered if perhaps this joy came from the nature of the activities. If I spend a few minutes mixing ingredients, in a little while I have something to eat. If I spend a few days sewing, in a little while I have something to wear. Whereas at work, I can't connect an activity like a simple phone call directly to its ultimate result. It goes something like: make a phone call, maybe reach someone, have a conversation, maybe schedule a show, prepare for the show, hold it, follow-up, earn money, use it to buy food or clothing. Too many "middle-men".

I shared this with my brother, who gave me the analogy of a fisherman taking his catch home the same day vs. a farmer waiting months for the harvest; and a friend, who suggested that perhaps it was as simple as the fact that I truly enjoy the process. Shortly after I started sewing regularly, I learned that if I focussed on meeting the deadline or keeping up with the class, I often wound up frustrated and disappointed. So I might as well take my time and enjoy the process... all of it. The end goal is still a product, but the joy and the learning carry just as much value.