....Pause....

I did some machine quilting tonight. That's something I always approach with great trepidation. My skills are pretty bad, but yes, they're improving with use. They're also improving because I'm no longer assuming it's a skill I should be able to pick up quickly. Rather, I'm being much more intentional about playing around on a practice quilt sandwich (if you're not "in the know", that doesn't involve ham on rye, which would do unspeakable things to my Janome; my quilt sandwich is a small practice quilt made out of fat quarters I'd decided I'd probably never use so they may as well give their lives to me improving my stitches). I'm also s...l...o...w...i...n...g down. No longer do I blithely stuff my next quilt victim under the needle and plow away at top speed. Now I roll a little at a time, gently easing my quilt friend a few inches at a time while entreating it to play nice with me.

And every now and again, I pause. Take a deep breath. Regroup. Reposition my hands, take another deep breath, roll my shoulders, remind myself to relax, and move on.

Hmmm. Yet another life lesson.

I started back to work today after my three month sabbatical. Last night I found myself dreading what I would find waiting for me. I'd had a few hints here and there (I hadn't completely cut myself off from communication) but I wasn't sure how I'd react to it, or if there were nasty, hidden surprises. But the day went along as if I'd never been gone. I caught up on projects, moved some other ones along, began a couple of new ones, and even found myself feeling excited again over certain possibilities. Part of what made the day go well, I think, was that I had very conscientiously taken the time to pause--something I haven't always been good at doing. Went to the gym early, before work--an active pause but a pause nonetheless. Throughout the day, occasionally reached down to pet my faithful doggie laying at my side--a pause with a very grateful recipient. Allowed myself quick 30-second daydreams of what quilting I'd get done after work. I was very careful not to slide into my usual "head-down-blinders-on-nose-to-the-grindstone" mentality. And I was just as productive, if not more so, than usual. What a surprise.

So after my workday was through, I sat down with one of my machine quilting books, reminded myself of some technique tips, practiced on the aforementioned quilt sandwich--none of which were things I usually did before--then began work on my wallhanging. It's a simple quilting pattern--that's all I can handle right now. Since the wallhanging looks a bit like a mosaic wall in an Italian villa, I'm doing vines climbing from bottom to top with leaves hanging off in random intervals. I chalked it out just to have an idea of spacing, but I'm not being rigid about following my own design. After all, the chalk will erase and no one will know what my original intentions were, and there's great beauty in that fact. But still, I chalked one out on the practice quilt just to make sure I'd know where I was going from point A to point B before working on the real mccoy. And then I began.

Every few inches, I'd stop with needle down, breathe, roll my shoulders, reposition my hands, glance up at a distant point to relax my eyes, and then slowly start in again. Another few inches, breathe. Another few, breathe. And after I had only one complete vine done...stop. Quit while I'm ahead. Don't put some arbitrary deadline in my head. Just...breathe. I've done enough for the night--I've gotten my quilt fix and made progress. I can pick it up again tomorrow evening.

I remember my flute teacher telling me once that, in music notation, the rest is the most important thing--it allows the notes to be more of themselves, more prominent, heard more clearly. Without rests, the notes will just run into themselves, tripping one after the other, and the listener will get exhausted. But the rest makes you stop and really hear what it is you're listening to. In quilting, even the most experienced, excellent machine quilter takes frequent pauses to allow him or herself to regroup. Without those rests, the stitches would tumble into one another, skipping and tangling, and one would end up with a mess rather than a work of art.

Why wouldn't daily life be the same way?

My quilt has been gently moved off to the side of my sewing cabinet and the machine is shut down. I'm going to catch up on emailing some friends and spending time with my family. A pause is a beautiful thing.