There are a zillion ways to meditate. My favourite over the years has always been a moving meditation.
Sitting and watching breath for me, can be both a delight and a bore. Yoga is not doing it for me. Itâ€™s okay, but â€¦ I have to work pretty hard not to fall asleep at the last part of the class when we all lie down with blankets and pillows.
Spinning wool has always been a great meditation for me. I feel productive and peaceful when I spin. Repetitive movements are soothing for me. Probably why I like tai chi, making glass beads and putting quilts together.
Over the last few days, Iâ€™ve been in a very deep meditation practice. My heart is comfortable, my breath deep and my mind focused. Pure bliss.
For three days now, Iâ€™ve been ripping seams out of a quilt top I messed up. This action not only droppedÂ me into a focus meditation, I got an extra bonus of working out some grief.
Rather than yelling and screaming, or cussing and pouting, I surprised myself by not chucking the entire thing in the bin.
No, when I discovered I had sewn more than several rows of fabric all backasswards. I sat at my sewing table with seam ripper in hand, and one stitch at a time, started tearing it apart.
As most of you know, I make memory quilts for people I love who have died. This last year alone I made quilts for my brother Bill, Dad and Peet. The huge exception has been Kim.
Iâ€™ve not been able to put a quilt together for her yet. I keep thinking it will come to me. I think it should be blue, with penguins or something to do with water, hanging out poolside, or travel. Nothing comes to me.
But, I thought, if I just start… sometimes… something… will happen.
I decided to use up some scraps of fabric. I began cutting them up and sewing them back together the way I do. I had no one particular in mind, and certainly not Kim â€” I just wanted a sewing meditation
I got on a roll. It was super nice to sew just to sew. No grieving, no mindfulness, no plan or purpose.
Then, I realized something went wrong, I was off track and my seams got all wonky. Changing direction is not a big deal when I sew. Iâ€™m always putting together or taking apart. Itâ€™s part of the process when you donâ€™t use a pattern.
But, last night I realized I had spent more time taking apart this particular quilt than I did in putting it together.
I found I was quite happy sitting in the moment, that turned into hours, that literally became several days of unravelling the mess I had raveled.
Kim may not get the quilt I think I need to make for her.
I may surprise myself and put her name on this scrappy, ripped apart and messy one.
As each stitch came apart a deeper peace settled in me. I thought of her a lot. Her death tore me apart. I realize I can not fix the wrong that was her death, but I can fix this quilt.