Over the weekend I decided I needed a new curtain to separate my living room from my dining room. Instead of buying a curtain, I figured it would be just as easy to sew one. The problem is that I haven't sewn anything in over seven years.
For some reason I felt very domestic this particular weekend and with much hesitation, I opened my closet and pulled out an old sewing machine. I sat down, cut the fabric to length, ironed it for the perfect creases and got ready to sew. It turns out the sewing machine did not work and I disassembled it and reassembled it, resulting in my ability to sew and complete the project.
These were all such very mundane tasks, but I was surprised at how meditative they were. I was in no rush or urgent need to get them done, so I could take my time and be careful. Ironing re-connected me to my youth where I would iron all of my school uniforms and could remember how happy I used to be to see my classmates when I arrived to school. There is a smell that hot fabric emits that transported me in time and place.
The iron itself belonged to my ex-husband. He left it behind when he left me behind. Holding it and using it to live my life helped me "own" that appliance. It was no longer his iron, it was my iron ...and after almost four years since he left, everything in my house became mine. Everything in my space was mine.
Repairing the sewing machine reminded me of all the years I spent with my dad repairing cars and car parts. It was just such a sad experience for me, but it helped me mourn him and I felt like his life was not for naught when I fixed the machine on my own. His mechanical lessons lived on in me, and I learned that he will always be there, just not the way he had been before. I never thought domesticity could be so healing.
Sewing itself reminded me of the years I spent with many women, my mom, my aunts; they all taught me different ways of sewing and I used it all on this curtain. My past caught up with my present and it was good.
I wish "women's work" was more valued, without the judgment, the social pressures to meet deadlines or keep up appearances, all of these tasks I had once greatly protested, were now meditative, healing. In a society that has no time to stop, pause and be present, I found mindfulness in all of these domestic tasks. It turns out "women's work" is "healing work."
For some reason I felt very domestic this particular weekend and with much hesitation, I opened my closet and pulled out an old sewing machine. I sat down, cut the fabric to length, ironed it for the perfect creases and got ready to sew. It turns out the sewing machine did not work and I disassembled it and reassembled it, resulting in my ability to sew and complete the project.
These were all such very mundane tasks, but I was surprised at how meditative they were. I was in no rush or urgent need to get them done, so I could take my time and be careful. Ironing re-connected me to my youth where I would iron all of my school uniforms and could remember how happy I used to be to see my classmates when I arrived to school. There is a smell that hot fabric emits that transported me in time and place.
The iron itself belonged to my ex-husband. He left it behind when he left me behind. Holding it and using it to live my life helped me "own" that appliance. It was no longer his iron, it was my iron ...and after almost four years since he left, everything in my house became mine. Everything in my space was mine.
Repairing the sewing machine reminded me of all the years I spent with my dad repairing cars and car parts. It was just such a sad experience for me, but it helped me mourn him and I felt like his life was not for naught when I fixed the machine on my own. His mechanical lessons lived on in me, and I learned that he will always be there, just not the way he had been before. I never thought domesticity could be so healing.
Sewing itself reminded me of the years I spent with many women, my mom, my aunts; they all taught me different ways of sewing and I used it all on this curtain. My past caught up with my present and it was good.
I wish "women's work" was more valued, without the judgment, the social pressures to meet deadlines or keep up appearances, all of these tasks I had once greatly protested, were now meditative, healing. In a society that has no time to stop, pause and be present, I found mindfulness in all of these domestic tasks. It turns out "women's work" is "healing work."
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