It is my potholders I often go to when I need settling.
I have hardly had any time in my studio this week since picking up Zinnia on Monday and Tuesday. But yesterday and this morning, I breathed deeply when I stepped into my studio, a pile of scraps on my floor, a few potholders from last week lined up on the next to it.
Nothing to do but find the right pieces of fabric to sew together. At these times, my potholders become priceless to me. The act of making them focuses and grounds me.
I take my time, not thinking of how much I’ll be selling them for and how much they actually cost to make. They are like small sketches, that both challenge and soothe me. I am keenly deliberate, time becomes fluid, undulating instead of linear.
I wish I could do this all day, stay in this mystical place. But I have other commitments, picking up my car from the garage where the snow tires are being put on, taking care of the animals, blogging checking my email which I’ve neglected for a day and this evening, Bellydancing.
Good things to do, but things that bring me from my potholder daze out into the world.
Hopefully tomorrow, I think, I can come back.