Life's Loom

A grand nugget enjoying her yoga with one of my creations close by

There is creativity in surviving, I heard Suleika Jaouad, discussing in a conversation she was having with her husband, Jon Batiste. During a time when one can become so harsh on oneself. Believing they are not producing, doing nothing can become a looping inner dialogue. Quite the contrary, the reality being that we are sourcing from unknown depths within to keep ourselves on the planet. Navigating survival requires creativity.

With the passage of time so much is learned, the very act of having to negotiate how to keep oneself alive informs every creative process. Never to be taken lightly, thus birthing the alchemy between the two. https://www.suleikajaouad.com

I wonder why the ego mind decides it needs to be such a harsh task master? Pointing out ALL the ways in which we are missing the mark? What could possibly be beneficial in this? Can we even begin to try to get moving and attempt something from an inner/outside force that feels shaming? Chances are slim that this is ever effective.

In my early days after the loss of my son, Douglas, my routine was simple. I needed to get out of bed, move my body, engage within my basic toiletries, and ingest some calories for fuel.  Grieving has our bodies on high alert, thus it makes sense that additional calories are being burned, even if one is only moving from the bed to the couch. There exists no turning off time, where the body, mind and soul are at ease. It takes its own time, and that’s the last thing anyone in loss desires to hear. YET. IT. IS. THE. TRUTH.

Grieving cannot be rushed, it takes what it takes, and can come crashing upon us like an unforeseen tsunami. Possessing a velocity and power that might rip our newly formed tender flesh right off.

Creativity in surviving, however it may come in, is what forms the bridge over the chasm of what once was to what currently is. I have known some who painted, journaled, wrote books, songs, poems, cooked, did whatever their souls led them toward. It is as individual an endeavor as we are. One can only share what is assisting them. When tried it might make us want to run for the hills or perhaps something resides within that is worthy of a try. Maybe now or later, yet tucked snuggly away as a possiblity? Curiosity can become a spark plug doing its job of igniting and connecting.

For my mom, when asked how she had grieved the loss of her son, she shared that she had cleaned out every closet, cupboard, nook and cranny she could get her hands on. Her attempt to create an order in the world where everything was topsy turvy, and nothing remotely made any sense.

I made blankets, dozens upon dozens of them. The purchasing of the soft flannel fabric, choosing the colors that ignited something within me. Washing the fabric first before working with it, the tactile feel, sipping my Beans and Brew favorite chai latte, (Christmas in a cup) became a creative outlet and ritual. Every newborn, dog, friend, relative received one, some two or more. Something to wrap a love within, were tangible expressions of how my heart was slowly being stitched back together again. Softly, intentionally, and with abundant grace.

“I am on the gurney. I am underground. I am pushing toward the light. I am developing roots no one can see. I am waiting on spring shoots. I am still in winter. I am all of these things, but none last. Tomorrow will be different from today.” ~ Jen Hatmaker

Another nugget cozied up within two of them