Synchronicity, a handshake with the universe

In the last few weeks, there have been several incidents that seemed to be signs the universe was conspiring to help me. I wanted to listen to Brene Brown’s book Rising Strong while I quilted, and I got a notification that the library had automatically checked it out to me, after putting it on hold over a month ago. I had just enough calcium to fix the mordants on my quilt. A workshop I wanted to take was full, but I put my name on the waiting list and I got an email a few days later saying a spot had become available.

Last night, I was nearly finished sewing the quilt I’ve been working on and I could see I had very little thread left on both the spool and the bobbin. The day before, I’d gone to my fabric shop hoping to buy 2 more spools, but they only had one. I thought well, maybe that will be enough. I was finishing my last seam, praying there’d be enough thread, and I smiled and sighed as I watched the last stitch form. I pulled the fabric off of the machine and saw that there was less than an inch of bobbin thread hanging from the edge of the fabric! There was merely a few crisscrossed lines from the thread strand left on the spool. I was so grateful, my heart felt like fluttering wings. I thanked the universe for allowing me just what I needed to complete my task. Then I pondered the concept of “enough” that I never thought I would have or be. In that book I was dying to read (Rising Strong), and had finished listening to earlier in the day, the author Brene talks about the fear of never being enough or having enough and the scarcity culture we live in. She says “the opposite of scarcity, of never enough, isn’t abundance or ‘more than you could ever imagine’, it’s simply enough.” As in, I’m enough. I have just what I need right now to begin, it is already with me. It felt like the universe patting me on the back saying, “Hey, we know you can do this. You are ‘good’ enough, ‘talented’ enough, ‘smart’ enough, and you ‘want it’ enough. I’m here to help.”

I listen to the “Don’t Keep Your Day Job” podcast and highly recommend it. Cathy Heller is the host and one of the things she talks about often is being in the flow, with the universe, God, your higher self, or whatever you call it. She often says when you decide what you want and make up your mind to go for it that the universe will conspire to help you. I’ve been feeling good every day working on this quilt, the first I’m making with intention to sell. Nearing the end of the quilting stage, the ideas I’d originally had for the second in the series seemed elusive, out of reach, and I began to worry that when the time came for my next quilt, I wouldn’t have a well-formed idea. Sure enough, that evening some late night creativity arrived and many ideas came faster than I was able to draw. But back to the moments before this bout of inspiration. I was feeling let down. I had slipped back into my old habit of thinking I was “unoriginal”, lacking in ideas and talent. It’s the reason I never applied to art school. The reason was fear. Like every teenager, or for that matter every human, I sought love and belonging. Art school would be filled with young people with imaginations far superior to mine. I feared a constant feeling of inferiority, the opposite of belonging. Though I excelled at drawing in my high school art classes and was often asked by the teacher to assist other students, I had never made original work. I didn’t have a clue where to begin. I imagined it was an instinct, and not something I could learn.

My other hobby was musical theater and I sang in voice competitions, so I had many theater friends who had entered the local creative arts high school, where you could go for half of the school day. They had programs in visual and performing arts, my 2 passions. With voice, it took years to build the meager confidence I had. I’ve always had high standards and imagined I was good but not great. With years of coaching, I got better and better. I began to receive more gold medals and even a best of show award for a duet. I preferred competitions over auditions because there was less risk. I could handle not getting a gold medal, but I was terrified of hearing that I wasn’t good enough for a role…i.e. someone saying “no, not her”. Needless to say, I didn’t think I could stomach auditioning for the performing arts program my friends were in and I looked into their visual arts application requirements instead.

The application required a portfolio and a certain number of the drawings had to be “original” work. This was quite a crossroads. I knew you needed a portfolio to get into an art program at a university. I knew that if I got in this program, I could build a portfolio. I thought maybe my precision could get me in, but the fear of rejection crept further and further up my throat. Any attempts I made at “original” were very copy and paste, collaged drawings really, and I doubted myself more and more. During this process, I remember discussing the logistics with my parents, as the program had a bus to pick up kids from some high schools, but I went to a private school, far into the suburbs, and getting into the city for half of the school day would prove challenging. Let’s just say my parents didn’t exactly jump on board with overwhelming support. Looking back, I realize this gave me an easy out. I could claim resentment and try to place blame, but deep down, I know this was the first time I let “not good enough” get the best of me. I took the no at face value and didn’t push for it. I felt disappointment, but mostly in myself.

When it came time to apply to college, I actually got a voice scholarship, thanks to a push from my choir teacher and a lot of reassurance. But I didn’t apply to either of the programs I yearned to pursue. Art and music felt like stepping into vulnerability. Those talents laid in a tender place and I hadn’t yet learned that vulnerability is the key to wholehearted living, as Brene points out in her books. I’m sure my venturing into the arts, then known as the beacon of financial instability, likely terrified my mom. She encouraged me to look into the architecture and interior design programs. I landed on Interior Design. Nearly the whole time I was there I knew it was not the place I was meant to be…but I didn’t know where it was I should be, so I just kept going. I got the degree, but not a job. I fumbled around for years until I discovered textile arts. Weaving, quilting, and dyeing picked me back up.

Of course, so much is clear when we look back. Ya know what they say about hindsight! But I realize, the exploration of textile art has never once made me feel “not good enough”. Perhaps it is the pure honesty of the medium. There is little pretense involved. After all is said and done, it is just cloth, the closest tangible thing to us, right against our skin. It doesn’t feel “precious” in the sense that it can’t be touched or “lived up to”. It feels precious in the sense that it is meant to be touched, to provide comfort, to give protection. The worthiness in a piece of fabric comes simply from wonder. That plant or animal gave that fiber, which was spun into a fine thread, warped on a loom, and woven. Those colors come from that plant, animal, and mineral. This world we live in is here to show us the way. Back to basics. Inspiration grows all around us. I have grown, much like the cotton or the madder root. I’ve been through some processing, and if I sit on the shelf, I will never see my full potential. But in creating, I can make myself just as bright and vibrant as the quilt in my hands. I’ve got this. I’m enough. And so are you.