It started for me when I was five...when I took apart the drapes on the doll cot that my grandmother had laboriously made for me for Christmas. I was severely reprimanded and told how 'destructive' I was (the first of the litany of reprimands with which my childhood was littered) - when my intention was only to see how it had been constructed.
I have always been entranced by fabrics - textiles of any sort - woven, embroidered, printed, felted...stitched into garments or soft-furnishings, decorated, embellished, and then used for more of the same, making my (or others') interior environment just that little bit more beautiful, enticing, welcoming. (Is there some genetic memory passed down from my ancestor - a merchant in the textile-trading part of London in the 1770's? I like to imagine there is....)
But for easily the last ten years, my sewing machine and embroidery threads have been tucked away, as I have engaged in and been distracted by other ups and downs in life, and more cerebral activities have taken the place of the work of head, heart and hands combined.
Until last week, when I needed to amend the length of a pair of curtains, just to add the finishing touches to the interior painting and decorating done by my son. Out came the (possibly rusty) sewing machine, threaded up (with the aid of a little bit of black paper so I can see the hole in the needle these days!!) And tested...in with the fabric, down on the foot pedal and wheeee.....away we went, and back came rushing all the joys of creativity with fabric and thread that I had forgotten I loved so much.
Yes - the old machine does need a bit of oil, and my technique needs brushing up - but it is not being packed away again...but installed in the sunroom, I think in pride of place (everyone else probably thinks 'in the way!' :-)) - and all the stitching (and mending!) that has been ignored and neglected for the last decade is being brought out and enjoyed once more - alongside that ignored part of myself that - I now realise - also needs to come out to play. I write and I think and I discuss, yes - and I RELISH those activities...but I
also garden, and cook, and stitch, and paint. ALL components are necessary for me to fully live - as I believe they are for us all.
What do YOU need to live your fullest life? Is there any languishing creative pleasure back in the recesses of your own memory that could be brought out again to play?