Needlework as therapy

by · February 28, 2019

Art has played a huge part in my ongoing recovery from head injury more than two years ago. There were many, many days of bed rest when all I could do was rest, and try not to think too much.

Learning to count my breaths came pretty easily then: count each breath in and out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten… one, two, three, four, five, six… and so on. Over and over. Get mixed up, never mind. Start again. One, two, three, four…

There were the days when I would just rest and allow thoughts to come and go. Thoughts of trees and grass, and looking up into the starry skies. Then, there were days of flipping through picture albums on my phone, BoredPanda, 500px, Pinterest.

After a while, counting, meditation, the elements outdoors when I‘m outside walking, and pictures of beautiful places and things I constantly look at meld in my mind and inform my dreams.

I’m drawn more and more in waking time in the pursuit of art, and needlework.

In recent months, I’ve been visiting a yarn store to look and perhaps buy a bit of yarn. I have my mother’s knitting and crochet needles, and my sister tells me the best places to look at patterns online.

I’ve proudly completed a few small wearable projects.

Although my journey to reclaim some of my former needlework proficiency has been extremely slow, I’ve gained a heightened appreciation for colour. Something in my brain wants to acknowledge vibrant hues and beautiful combinations.

Thanks to a certain Japanese brand of yarn, Noro, I’m now the owner of a few small balls of yarn. And yet these few balls each provide a different combination of colours and hues — each variegating from one colour to another within the ball — providing me with a huge spectrum from which to choose gorgeous, vibrant colours for my piece, and practice my needlework skills.

One, two… one, two, three, four… one, two… and if I get mixed up, I unravel and start again.

Love ❤️

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MY WISH

Holding space for grief, heart wide open
mending brokenness with words, colour, texture
inspired in the twilight of our days on this land
not ours.
Welling up with gratitude and despair both
hope is but a glimmer, yet joy is trembling
bursting forth
as the birds sing and flowers blossom
may we take pleasure as we mourn.

Welcome

These days, we are making sense of things after climbing out of a deep sleep, post-pandemic.

Our bodies feel anxious about the rise of fascism and evidence of roiling climate crises at every turn.. and so, as we increase our conscious awareness, it’s important to increase connection, each in our own local communities and become fluent with our channels for mutual aid.

Attempting to maintain control through all this uncertainty is a normal response, though it’s likely to feel triggered and confused.. do relax and feel into whatever comes up, and know it is normal in urgent times like these.. reach out to loved ones, let them know they can count on you, and allow them to be there for you, too……

I’m over here in Vancouver Canada, picking up the pieces of my shattered life. I find it helpful to use writing (journaling) and making things, listening to the land and feeling into my ancestors and reclamation as therapy to work through (and hopefully beyond) post-concussion symptoms.

Thank you for visiting.

As always, I would love to hear from you.. the usual channels, or by email at hitrish @ gmail .com  ❤️ 

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