Handmade. I am about to scare the shit out of some of you.
My recent post (Check it out by Clicking Here “Journey is not a Buzz Word”) gave a little glimpse into my recent thoughts and wanderings, but a glimpse is not nearly as scary as jumping in with both feet.
I love handmade things.
I can feel the love someone has put into creating something. The time spent thinking about a loved one while they create a special gift for them is much more valuable than any monetary token.
I love the intricate stitches, brush or pen strokes put into an item as each one had a purpose and was done intently. Every “happy accident” was not necessarily a flaw but created a new opportunity to mold the gift into something truly unique and special.
I love the feeling between two people when such a personal gift is exchanged. The pride and joy the giver exudes while they are deeply singing “I made this for you! I was thinking about you!” while the receiver can feel the love that only can be felt when they realize someone took their time to create for them.
Time is the one true thing we need to worry about how we spend it.
Really, (here may be my privilege speaking to some of you) but I worry more when I am running out of time than I do when I am running out of money. Somehow, some way, enough money seems to be provided for me that I am still alive. I can still feed, clothe and house my children. That is enough.
But, there is never enough time for me to do everything I will ever want to do in life. I will never have enough time to love my kids, husband or my blood and chosen families. So why on earth do I spend so much time worrying about things I can not control and WHY OH WHY do I spend so much time in a place that is not from love?
I get so much joy out of creating things. I also like to give personal handmade items. I realize now I enjoy this so much because I love giving uniquely love-filled, gifts.
I make these gifts for other people all the time. Whenever I sit to create something, I rarely do so with the intent that I am going to keep that item I am making. I do it for someone else.
WARNING! HERE’S WHERE THE SCARY SHIT STARTS:
Since you went back and read my previous post I mentioned above (you did, right?) you are going to understand a bit where I am coming from.
I have been on a journey. I am trying to find myself. I have been trying to find myself out there for quite some time. I am only now discovering that I was looking in all the wrong places. There is nothing OUT THERE that is going to tell me who I am. There is nothing out there that is going to help me to learn about myself or rediscover my trueness.
Recently, I had the opportunity to go to a retreat with some amazing women. I expected to relax, do some Yoga, maybe meditate and have a massage or some other “spa” crap that we always think will ground us for some reason. Note to self: spa crap is great, but fixing the inside is really more important to me right now.
Somehow this retreat blew my expectations out the window. I walked into it with an open heart and I think that is all that mattered. I do know I somehow thought I could look to the women who arranged the retreat as my guides and trust me they helped open my heart, but in the end, it was more about me.
Trust me, being with a bunch of kickass women is the most powerful experience I have ever had. We jumped in the ocean, we chanted, we held hands. But, without my openness and willingness to dig deep, it would have been just a bit of fun.
I had to turn inside out and look within to realize that everything I need is within me. You can call it God, you can call it Zen, you can call it positive energy. I don’t really care what you want to call it because that is your perception.
For so long the outside forces I was seeking out have been letting me down. Noone and nothing so far have been able to pinpoint the parts of me that I have been missing. I feel like once in a while something will help me almost reach a breakthrough… and then I am sorely disappointed with the outcome or results.
I understand now. These outside things are not handmade for me. Just like every pair of jeans I have tried on the past three years… nothing has been fitting me. None of these things were stitched with me in mind, none of them have any brushstrokes where even the choice of colour was for me.
These things are all fluff and deceit. It is up to me to create my happiness for myself. I need to take the time for me to weave and nurture what it is that has been inside me all along. I have all the materials and all the knowledge to make what it is my soul-purpose has been searching for.
Creating, rediscovering and molding myself with my own two hands …handmade with love.
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