I am a maker.
I like the process of making stuff. I like it more so than the finished product for the most part. Still, at times, I get attached to the whatever I made, and even though I have plenty – I think I want/need to keep it.
The quilt I made for Kim, for instance – I know her son would love it, but, so do I. So for now, I’m sleeping under it and am happy to do so. One day, Jason may get it, but then again, maybe not.
I do not understand this feeling at all. I’ve happily given away a lot of quilts, and other creations over the years, yet for some reason right now – I’m feeling stingy, and that’s not good!
In our house, there are three quilts on one bed, and three on another. As I look across the room, there are five quilts folded up all nice and decorative on a chair. In our living room, quilts are folded up all pretty, in the display case. The quilts my mom made, are hanging on our walls. Even Boze sleeps on a quilt I made.
The problem with creating stuff — is you have stuff.
The past few weeks I’ve alternated between working in the sewing room and sitting at the spinning wheel.
I have a butt load of fleece in our cedar chest. I’ve collected it since we lived in Oregon, because I can. And because, over the years, I do sit and spin.
Again, I love the process, much more than the product. Yet, with this latest batch of homespun, I’m attached, and think — now what?
I’ve given away most all the wool I’ve ever spun up. Wanting to keep this is a new feeling for me. I know it would make a nice warm sweater, but with my lack of skill as a knitter, I know I’d just ruin it. So… what?
In the past, I’d give the yarn to a knitter in hopes that something would come back to me. A few times something did, but for the most part, the gift was freely given and is long gone.
I haven’t made a bead since we lived on Bowen Island, because this house doesn’t have a glass studio space. While I miss playing with fire and melting glass; I’m beginning to think it’s a good thing, otherwise, I’d have a butt load of beads again.
Attachment is a horrible thing when it comes to stuff. Buddhist shit aside, my fear of hoarding is real. (Apples falling close to trees and all.)
Usually, I like to err on the side of generosity, and when I do, it’s easy for me to give stuff away. Right now, I’m embarrassed to say, I’m clinging to my creations.
I know my mood will change, and when it does I’ll jump on it, and be able able to give away stuff again.
But today I’m attached.