The S3 Edict

I'm moving at a gradual pace through this training that will take years. As someone who historically has zoomed through assignments, throwing together something semi-respectable - and thus semi-respected - at the strike of the last moment, working steadily and mindfully is a revelation. And bloody hard.

What I'm doing now is the deepest work we've done yet. Past the basics into some serious business. Our teacher warns us that this is where things can get life-changing. Where you don't always have a whole lot of choice. Where you may be surprised. And I have been.

In a Miyagi-esque turn of events I have been told that I should be sewing. By hand. Needle, thread, go. Don't argue. Shut up. Sit down. Sew. Henceforth referred to - somewhat snarkily and no doubt I'll pay for that attitude - in my head as the S3 Edict.

One morning this week I woke up remembering Jude Hill. I was mesmerised by her Magic Feather Project when she launched it in 2011. I think I ambitiously added a button link to it on whatever the hell blog I was writing at the time, planning to take part. Surprise, surprise...I didn't. The time wasn't right. I wasn't right.

Rediscovering her blog fit like a missing jigsaw piece into the Edict. I spent hours following threads to other places, other women who seem to have made their way to a place Tracie and I have talked about wistfully for years now: the clearing in the woods. Kindred women with scruffy clothes, a good dusting of fur and feathers, distracted expressions and deep roots reaching down into the dirt beneath their feet. Of all the things I thought I'd bring to this place, a needle and thread weren't among them.

I have other things I want to write about here. Things very much of this world, not the woods, because I think it may do some good to share. But today I have a head full of weave and thread and a powerful dose of Shoshin.

Darned by Susanna Bauer