I wake panicking! I jump out of bed. The dog has pooped in the hall. The morning mail comes crash landing through the letter box thankfully centimeters from a potentially messy target. The place is a mess. I’m running a workshop in 3 hours. People are arriving! Argghhhh!
What exactly did i do last night? Oh yes, if i hadn’t been stuck to the sofa in a battle between repulsion and morbid curiosity causing me to stay rooted for several episodes of Dexter the flat would be sparkling, organised and prepared!
Slowly the morning weaves together as friends arrive ~ each one a breathe of calmness and inspiration and as we talk about current projects and wools, crocheting, beads I begin to feel grounded in myself again.
The day flies in as wool is laid, and rolled, soaped and felted. Fingerless gloves that started life the size of scarves are shrunk with hard graft and arms and shoulders that will ache the next day. Not quite the 15 minute projects we are all addicted to, but a working together in rolling and shrinking as women once did fulling Harris Tweed singing waulking songs. I run around with the mop as we work fueled by coffee, cake and some good old veggie Scotch Broth.
The laughter and the helping hands, stories of children and worries of sick children all intermingle bringing that quality that so much of consummerism, globalisation and quick fix gadgets have taken from us ~ a space to share and create.
And as i collapsed thoroughly exhausted from the day I felt enriched knowing that craft is a catalyst which helps foster purpose and meaning on a personal level yest it’s also what’s missing in our current culture. The very act of creativity is what’s needed to reinstall a sense of self and highlight the connections between us and everything else on this planet which is the key to returning the balance.