It’s just another morning and I enter my studio to begin my practice period and I feel a bubble. Not a bubble like a fizzy bubble, but more of a rolling bubble that quickly turns to a boil. I’m ruminating over something I can’t identify. My mind is reeling and as I stitch and try to identify the issue I start to de-escalate.
The acts of stitching are reducing the boil back to a bubble or simmer. I keep stitching hoping to unlock the issue and as I move from circle to circle (I’m stitching around painted circles) I realize how much this mirrors what’s going on in my mind. I’m going around and around and the only place I’m making progress is on the cloth. That takes me down one more notch on the bubble scale.
I’ve gone from the bubble stage to the intrigued stage. I’m wondering why the issue doesn’t seem to matter any more. I stitch hoping to find the answer and guess what; it doesn’t matter. Stitching brought me back into my body instead of floating somewhere in the atmosphere. I went from wandering aimlessly to a state of wonder and not about the issue, but about what’s happening in my body.
As I continue my practice period I finally let out the sigh that let’s me know I’ve come home. It didn’t take that long and it’s a good reminder of how I get in my own way. My thoughts, left to their own devices can be the biggest challenge to any issue. What if I hadn’t tried to rein in my thoughts and allowed the bubble escalate to a boil, would it have evaporated? Would it have burned itself out since it got so hot?
I’m not sure because those weren’t my experiences. Do I know that the process is changed forever, by no means can I answer in the affirmative. I invite this process to return because it too becomes a practice. How many practices can any one person handle? As many as are needed to continue on the journey.