I am not the kind of person who ever wanted to "waste away in Margueritaville." I have always loved to work. To do things, to make things, to keep busy. Not so busy that I am overwhelmed. I just love to see what I have done with my time.
My brother in law, George, as he was sitting and drinking a coffee, used to sometimes sing , "Deanne, Deanne, don't do it just because you can." I saw the humour right away. He knew me. And that still makes me smile. I must sing that for him the next time I see him and see if he remembers.
For me, making something makes time real.
You know. I can see what I did.
Now take cleaning. I don't love cleaning though I do my share. I don't love it because you do it, and then you come back in a few days and you have to do it again. Time was made real when the taps were shiny but then it slipped away again as time does.
Now, I don't mind if what I make does not turn out the way I expected. I don't mind if it is not as beautiful as I wanted. It is still there before me. I often say it is the time spent on the thing that matters more than the thing itself. I agree. That's why I am ok if it is not all I want it to be. I still have this proof of life in front of me. This proof of time spent. This thing that makes the time I spent feel real.
Because time in ethereal.
It is gossamer wings and gentle winds.
I don't know where it goes. And I find comfort in knowing that you don't either. That we are in this together.
But when I make I see time spent. I see loop by loop. I see yellow meeting gold. I see joy meeting sorrow. I see home meeting lost.
I see these things in a hooked rug. Each stitch is a moment.
Each stitch is a time and place.
I cannot see this in something made by a machine. I can only see this in the handmade.
And that is powerful.
Making is a powerful thing.
For the maker and for anyone who holds it in their hands.
It strengthens us. It tells us what we have been doing with our life.
So my song is actually, "Deanne, Deanne, do it while you can."
My song is about making.
Clearly my song is not about cleaning, or long white wine lunches, or wasting away in Margueritaville. Those are songs for someone else to sing.
Well, I do have to sing the cleaning song sometimes.
And once in France white wine came with lunch, so I drank it and immediately afterward bought two pairs of shoes, and then thought this wine at lunch thing could be dangerous. There are always some exceptions. And there are always times when you like to sing a different tune.
But most often I wake up and I think what I am making today. And that for me makes my day beautiful.
4 comments
Lin Bourie
I missed this one, I must have been traveling…I just love that you share all the little tidbits woven into your writings.
My song would be “Stories”. I am 3/4 Irish and one quarter French. I grew up surrounded by my French Canadian aunts who hugged & squished me to pieces and taught me to swear in French at age 4 (much to my mothers horror) they loved to get her going. She was their joy, and they were hers, so we spent lots of time together. I heard the most outrageous stories, we love reminiscing and continue to share their stories over and over again and laugh till we cry. So I would have to say they birthed the experience and joy of story within me. In my making there is always a story connected, be it the whispering of wind in the trees or the color prisms in a snowflake I feel the connection deep within and then my imagination takes over. Many’s of those stories have been shared at bedtime with my Grands, they think I’m a genius story teller, little do they realize I had the very best mentors anyone could have had, it just doesn’t get any better than that in my book.
Thanks for the question Deanne, it prompted lots of loving memories.
Blessings Lin
Deanne Fitzpatrick
Thank you both so much
Pamela Evoy
I totally agree with Joanee. If fact I was so “desperate” for the affirming nature of the Sunday Letter that I emailed Deanne today to ask her where I coukd access it as I hadn’t been able to. Rug hooking has helped my mental health and while I still struggle with bouts of depression and anxiety, making and being part of this community helps immensely. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
Joanee Arundale
I can’t begin to tell you how much your Sunday letters and Thursday Lives have meant to me. I have become a Faithful Follower of yours! ( Not sure where all of these skeins of wool will be going, but inspiration abounds as you share in your delight of soul filled joy reflected in such an incredible abundance of creativity.
I live in New York; Long Island to be more precise. Winters are too long for my liking and they have been hard on my spirit. However, I have currently had a large (for me) rug that I have been hooking by my side this year. It’s like an old friend that’s always there waiting to share it’s unfolding beauty bringing contentment and the promise of all good things every time I hook.
Finding your site has been such a blessing in my life. The Thursday Live where you showed us your studio catapulted me into such an awesome new level with my rug hooking. I just had to tell you that. Someday I must visit that studio. I’m in awe of all of it and of you. God Bless You and everyone who helps you with your magic. (Can’t wait for the next Thursday Live and Sunday Letter🥰)
~Joanee Arundale