Rest in the Mat.

When you need a rest it is wise to take it. Often when I need a rest I hook a rug. Something simple. Something like a design I have hooked before. It requires little thinking and lets me hook almost mindlessly. Sometimes it's as simple as a hit and miss. Stripes in little black boxes. 

This rug will lead me to sit with it. I won't trouble over it. I will not be halted, not knowing what to do next. It is like a favourite recipe. Like making cinnamon buns. It always comes out good. It is soothing and comforting.

And there are times we need just that. Comfort. And we should take it. We should find comfort in what we already know.

It is so important to know how to rest. How to take comfort.

And many might look at me and think...you never stop. They might say, "Do you even know how to rest?" And I can firmly say, "I do."

I can tell I do by the way my favourite chair is worn in places. By the comfortable pillows with the light wool blanket on the day bed in my studio. I can tell by my favourite mug waiting for me by the sink. The chicken soup in the freezer waiting for a day you do not want to cook is another sign. The Cheticamp all set up with a favourite design waiting for you. One that just needs you to be there. 

Resting does not mean stopping altogether, though there are times when a whole book of fiction gets read in a day. Resting means stepping back and slowing down. It means showering yourself with love and warmth. Wearing your favourite jeans and cozy sweater. Meeting your sisters for coffee, or calling a friend for a drive to nowhere. That's good enough for one day. It's all you need.

I have a friend who is known for saying, "Let's not and say we did." This comes to mind sometimes when I am thinking in the "should" mindset. I should go here, should do this, and that foolish saying brings me home to myself. And I abandon the mission I had in my head. It is ok to not do much.

It is ok to go to the frame just because you want to hear the sound of the hook. To soothe yourself with the rhythm of your own making. Hooking rugs is kind of like making music, a thrumming sound. The sound of comfort. A private lullaby, not to put you to sleep but to carry you to rest. 

My brother in law, George, sitting in the cosy tv nook in his parents kitchen used to sing to me, "Deanne, Deanne, don't do it just because you can." This was twenty five years ago. I'd set my lips straight across my face and look at him and shake my head in irritation and he would give me his gorgeous smile. He knew he had me pegged, and I heard him loud and clear. And I still hear that song in my head as I go about my days. A little fun and unabashed mockery in the kitchen turned out to be some of the best advice I was ever given. To think about what you are doing, to ask yourself why, and yes to find rest. Because sometimes that is the thing you need the most. 

And when you do, the frame is waiting for you. Some of the best rests I have ever taken are lost in a hooked rug, carried off into a world of soft warm beauty with the rhythm of my own hands.