Trusting the Process & Relinquishing Control
Whether it's art, writing, parenting, or other aspects of life, trust in the process and respect for the result are important.
Welcome to my many new subscribers and thank you to those writers whose recommendations have brought you here to my little corner of Substack.
This has turned out to be a rather eclectic place, where I write about the freedom to learn without coercion interspersed with sharings of my new weaving projects and general reflections about my life and aging. If there’s one thing I've learned over the years, it’s that every bit of our lives is connected to the next. Whether we’re parenting, helping children grow and learn, pursuing better health for ourselves and others, caring for the Earth, making art, or just reflecting on our lives in order to help nurture a kinder, more compassionate world for future generations, I try to share some of my insights into those connections here.
Another thing I’ve learned along the way (and only just recently come to terms with) is that my writing and my weaving don’t always go where I’d envisioned; they have intention of their own. This blog is an example of that. And I’ve learned not to fight it. I feel like my job is to facilitate, to guide, to provide the materials and the environment, along with whatever talent I have. Sometimes I can encourage my work along a certain path; sometimes it surprises me completely and teaches me something profound in the process.
My latest piece of weaving was like that. I ripped out an orange sunset a couple of times before some long-neglected pink yarn jumped out at me from my storage baskets. Pink is my least-favourite colour (to put it mildly), but I eventually decided to stop fighting the tapestry, take the hint, and set aside my judgment about what the piece should look like. I proceeded to weave a pink sunset. A week or so later, I learned that a geographically-distant friend had suddenly died a few weeks earlier. Her favourite colour? Pink. I am pleased with the finished piece, which hangs as a fitting commemoration of a kind, colourful, and creative woman.
I’m not sure why it took me so long to relinquish the urge to control and to trust the voices of my creative projects. After all, for over 50 years now, that’s how I’ve parented. It’s also been the topic of much of my writing and public speaking about children and learning.
I believe that our best efforts as human beings result from an understanding that the outcomes of our relationships – especially with, but not limited to, children and young people – might not align with our original vision or expectations. We can accept, respect, and love the result for who/what it is.
Turns out, the same applies to our other work in the world – in my case, writing and weaving!
You can read many of the articles I’ve written over the years by using these links on my website.
And, although I don’t yet have a home for photos of my woven tapestries, some of them are featured in other essays on this Substack and on my public Instagram page.