I think one can safely assume that there is a meditation behind handiwork.
Anything involving a thread and a needle; a yarn and a hook; a stitch, a cross, the repetitiveness of looping and pulling and weaving. It's something to get lost in.
And this is not to say that these crafts aren't difficult to make. They are. There is difficulty with teaching oneself how to do this stitch correctly, get that thread neatly tucked in, how to finish this in a way that you understand; in a way that all your work would look consistent in the end, etc etc. They can be blindingly difficult - they can be the source of much frustration. But when love comes behind all that - and the spirit, as I like to call it, I guess it all becomes bearable. For the love of beading. For the love of (insert whatever craft or hobby you like to get lost in).
The spirit is the entity that guides my hand. We all have the spirit. The spirit drives the hands of creators and makers and artists all over the world. And having the spirit doesn't mean your finished work, or the end result, has to even be any good or liked by anyone else. It just means that this finished piece of work - no matter how insignificant it may be in terms of size or impact on the world, etc - has a piece of you in it. Your soul. You. Your essence, your matter.
Something that will live on. But not forever, in a physical sense. Perhaps it will break in the future. It will most likely weather with age; perhaps you'll lose it one day in transit, across moving homes; maybe (and most likely) you'll even forget how you ever made such a thing someday far into the future. But I think, what is eternal is the feeling you put into it. Feeling transcends time. And going beyond that is how it made someone else feel when they saw it.
Two quotes today, and yes they are from tumblr because that is the only chaotic void of a social media space (if you can even call it that) that I've been happily active on since my teens. To think that I wasn't on Instagram before I started Kalbu is bizarre, but I thank myself for it because I wouldn't have been half the person I am today if not for it.
2. “I read the poem of a student and in the poem God wandered through a room picking up random objects – a pear, a vase, a shoe – and in bewilderment said, ‘I made this?’. Apparently God had forgotten making anything at all. I awarded this poem a prize, because I was a judge of such matters. I was not really awarding the student, I was awarding God; I knew someday the student would pick up his old poem and say in bewilderment, ‘I made this?’, and at that moment his whole world would be lost in the twilight, and when you are finally lost in the twilight you can not judge anything.”
— “On Twilight,” Mary Reufle
To whomever has stumbled across this small safe space of mine, thanks for....I don't know, reading a small sliver of my thoughts and for staying on this long. Running a small shop all on my own has been one of the hardest things I've ever tried doing in my life. And I'm still trying. Everyday is an effort.
But there's that thought of my pieces having a loving home, scattered elsewhere around the country, even overseas, in someone else's abode...hanging on top of someone's dresser; strewn about on someone else's table; stored in their accessory box and trinket dishes. Not wholly in an egoistical sense (maybe a little bit, haha, I'm not sure). But it's just the thought that there are all these pieces of me, all around the physical realm of this earth elsewhere. Like I've returned to the Earth in some other form. Even if it is through something material like jewellery. I think that's a reason to carry on.
If you've read this far, and if one of my pieces have found a home with you, just know that you've fed the Spirit within me. And that I love you very much for it.