A couple of months ago, I shared a pic of some puffy denim hearts I’d made and thought you might enjoy seeing where some of them ended up. Behold my mid-winter mantel.
Adorable as these are, they’re a tangible reminder of my biggest stumbling block right now: making things with no plan (yet) for how to use them. I’ve been making these on-and-off for a few years; an easy-to-grab lap project, with very little muss or fuss, but never had any plans for what I’d do with them. Finding a use for them might have been the highlight of my week.
It’s odd and frustrating, because this dilemma never bothered me before. I made things because I wanted to make them. Period. But now something inside me needs a purpose or a recipient in mind before I start a project. No more painting for the fun of it. My closet is already full of used canvases. No more collecting empty bottles or containers to use “someday.” My little red barn is overflowing with “someday” projects.
When I taught upcycling classes, everything I did had a purpose, even if its purpose was just trial-and-error as I thought through options for what I might teach. I saved everything that had even the slightest potential for upcycling and, best of all, had a classroom where I could display and share what I made. Nothing lived in the closet. God, I miss that.
Before I slip too far down the woe-is-me-rabbit-hole, you should know I’m not without things to do. I volunteered to crochet lap afghans for Hosparus. I still braid t-shirt scraps into dog toys for my favorite pet rescue and cover cat litter buckets in denim to create cute storage, for myself and my friends. Those are the kinds of projects that give me pleasure right now – ones with a purpose and, perhaps more important, a destination.
And I trust this feeling won’t last forever. Maybe I can blame it on the bleak midwinter. Or maybe it’s just a weird side effect of a life that still lacks a purpose and a destination. Whatever the cause, one thing I know is true: The essentials to happiness are something to do, something/someone to love and something to hope for.
Between the pandemic and my need for a steady income, I can’t imagine a day when I might get to teach upcycling classes again, but it’s something I hope for, thus taking me one step closer to happiness. And that’s enough for now.
Every day of “enough for now” is a good day, Leah. The Israelites learned to say it in the wilderness with manna (or at least some of them did!), and while their destination likely felt unknown to them, they persisted in continuing the journey. Perhaps for now, each day is enough. And that’s the end of today’s platitudes! I, for one, am ever so grateful that you share that journey with the rest of us. Whether you recognize it or not, you and your writing are manna for hungry minds and hearts.
Your life has enormous purpose if you stop and think of your impact on others such as your sons, your family, your friends, and even your acquaintances. You affirm others through your words as well as always leaving them with something to ponder.