Cultivating Patience

We live in a hasty world, structured more and more around the goal of immediate gratification. We want what we want, we want it now, and we want it with as little work as possible on our own part. 

I recently took up knitting again. Other than a few ambitious sweater projects in my youth, I have always been a plain knitter, sticking to the simple stitches to create hats and scarves for family and friends. For some reason, my interest was recently piqued by an online class on lace knitting at  Craftsy.com...so I picked up my knitting needles, settled down in front of the video and began to learn some new techniques. After ripping back to the beginning about four or five times—sometimes after an entire week's worth of effort—I was feeling a bit discouraged and shared my feelings of inadequacy with a friend who is a master knitter. To my surprise, she told me that she OFTEN has to rip back and start over in her projects, too.

It got me thinking about perseverance and patience, and the importance of taking the time to do things right. I thought about why I had started the project in the first place. 

Once I realized how much of my effort was invested in showing off the final result, and in pressuring myself to completion, I was more able forgive myself if I made mistakes, to relax and enjoy each stitch—especially when I learned a new technique of inserting a "lifeline" once a certain portion of the project was done correctly, so that I don't have to rip everything out if I make a mistake! I even enrolled in a second lace knitting class and bought some new wool (alpaca and merino! yummy!) for the next project.

As makers, we are just as prone to impatience as the next guy...we want to see the final product blossom, we want to know how it's going to turn out. Cut to the chase, already!

But masters in all fields of endeavour know that projects of true value cannot be rushed to completion; seeds that are forced to grow too quickly are straggly and weak, unlikely to survive; trees that grow quickly are soft and not very useful for building things that last; even as firewood, they burn out quickly and don't produce a lasting heat. 

And so I say: take the time, make the time... cultivate patience with yourself and with others... the effort is worthwhile and will make itself known in the quality of the final result.


UPDATE: And here is the final result!

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

It has been said that we stand on the shoulders of giants. We don't start from zero in our understanding of the world and how things work; we are privileged to begin where others left off.

Standing on the shoulders of giants offers a lofty place to catch a glimpse of wider horizons... but we can't spend our whole life riding along up there. We also need to come down to earth on a regular basis, to notice and appreciate the small and intricate miracles right at our feet, as we navigate our own small path through the world.

Missing Person Report (I'm Still Here)

Sorry, folks... I fell off the blog wagon the day I planned to change my routine; I got very sick for a couple of days back in May and never got back at my daily blog. After prolonged consideration, I have decided to take a relatively blog-free summer and—hopefully—make some progress on a couple of big projects before I get back at it diligently in September.

In the meantime, I am planning to take a mini-summer course online from "Make It in Design" to break the ice for my emerging sideline interest in surface pattern design, starting July 28th and ending in early September. Wish me well! :)


Mentors

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OK, you may have noticed we're on a bit of a theme this week. And if we're going to talk about apprenticeship, we also need to talk about mentors.

This is a time when we need mentors more than ever. We need leaders we can respect and look up to, heroes to emulate, role models to learn from, footsteps to follow. Our individualistic culture has given us many gifts: freedom, a sense of possibility, a belief in our own abilities... but to a degree, it has also turned us inward and shaped the belief that it all begins and ends with ourselves.

Mom and Dad: if you're reading this, you'll remember the famous words of adolescence... "I'd rather make my own mistakes."

OK, fine... but as much as it's good to have initiative, to demonstrate independence, to learn something for ourselves—if we don't also have mentors, teachers and guides, we can spend a lot of time lost in the woods, re-discovering fire and re-inventing the wheel. I believe in experiential learning, but there's no reason for everyone to start from scratch. That's just wasting time that could be spent making headway on some of the really important problems we face: finding solutions to violence, hunger, injustice, poverty, and an environment decaying at a seemingly exponential rate.

We could be standing on the shoulders of giants, seeing so much further into both past and future... if only we could find someone who's been through some of the things, someone to learn from, someone to trust. We can read about those people with the big ideas, listen to them on TED, follow them on social media, peruse their blogs, listen to their podcasts... but can we really connect on a personal level, learn one-on-one, share our missteps and ask for advice? Maybe so; maybe the future mechanism is different than the traditional one.

And what if we could take the time to BE one of those people for the next guy? We don't have to be the one with ALL the answers, but surely each of us has learned something of value along the way, in some area of our life, that could be a cornerstone for someone else out there. Can we be generous enough to share freely?

A mentor is someone who comes to meet us where we are and walks with us to the destination we're travelling towards, telling us stories and pointing out landmarks along the way. "That's where the bear almost got me; the water in that spring is pure; watch out for the loose rocks on the side of that hill...and just over there, almost hidden from sight, is a rare flower that only grows here... but you need to keep your eyes open or you'll miss it."

Build relationships of trust, share ideas and experiences generously, reach for the stars; find a mentor, be a mentor. 

The Continuing Saga of the Toolbox: Apprenticeship

So you've got a toolbox loaded with a bunch of tools. Now what?

Most workplaces require some initial training in the use of appropriate tools; toolbox-centred trades traditionally rely on some form of apprenticeship program. In addition to understanding the mechanics of how each tool works, an apprentice gains experience in diagnosing problems and reviewing appropriate criteria to determine which tool to apply to each task. The apprentice/mentor relationship allows a gradual transfer of knowledge/wisdom during the actual practice of doing the work. If both parties are willing and open-minded, this approach minimizes risk and maximizes opportunity to build partnerships and share insights, whether from a fresh or experienced perspective. It also adds a personal element to a professional practice with the ability to ask and answer on the spot.

[NOTE: I am familiar with the concept of an apprenticeship, but have never formally undergone the process. I would be interested to hear other thoughts on the subject.]

Don't get me wrong, I don't think apprenticeship is the only way to learn: YouTube and other video-based forms of online training have expanded specialized learning to a new level beyond the basic search capabilities of the internet and democratized it across ages, income levels and cultures. The ability to customize learning and offer real-time interactions between teachers and students has grown in leaps and bounds, and the internet has dissolved international boundaries (my stepson initially learned a lot of his guitar techniques from an online mentor in Australia.) 

I am fascinated by online learning: I have had a subscription to lynda.com (one of the earliest online providers for professional software/design training) for several years and highly recommend it... and based on a recent and ongoing conversation in one of my LinkedIn groups, it is obvious that others agree... very strongly... very VERY strongly. Lynda.com has created an intensely loyal following through their continuing commitment to meet the needs of their users.

I frequently register for free online webinars on topics of interest related to the design business; and recently subscribed to several classes (free and paid) on Craftsy to explore new horizons and to expand existing knowledge related to my spare time creative projects. Last but not least, my team at work continues to create and deliver customized online training programs in areas such as marine safety and customer service for clients, in addition to our other design work.

I think the apprentice/mentor approach is evolving and changing in our digital culture, but will still require real people to participate, people who are willing to learn and people who are willing to share their knowledge and experience.

I hope to continue to do both... how about you?

TGIF

It's been a long week... but I can think of lots of reasons to say TGIF:

So a simple "thank goodness" is in order... specifically, for the goodness personified in my dust bunny of a husband. He smooths out lots of things in my life: my path, my ruffled feathers... and most recently—as shown in the picture at the top of this post—he is smoothing out my kitchen walls and ceiling (currently under renovation.)

With Rob in the picture, every day rates a TGIF. Thanks, honey, for just being you! :)

Overcoming Invisibility

Graffiti intrigues me. At times, it seems like arrogant vandalism, which makes me angry... yet, at other times, it illuminates a dark corner with beauty, or with a call for justice, inciting public action/reaction.

I don't know much about it, but "tagging" seems to fall in the first category. To me, it's like standing in the middle of an empty room and yelling your own name over and over again; senseless, selfish and somewhat silly. But then I ask myself: why? Is this the work of someone who just wants attention? How is it different from the endless stream of Facebook selfies, Twitter navel-gazing—and blogs like this one—that clutter the social media channels? The truth is that we all want to be noticed, to be heard, to matter. The question is, how will we achieve it?

I wonder if other opportunities for creative expression seem blocked to these graffiti guerillas... and why? Are these images really maps drawn by someone who is lost, created in the hope they might eventually be found? Are they like the sad and greedy seagull in the movie "Finding Nemo" crying "mine, mine, mine" and staking out a territory when everything else seems to have been taken away?

The more complex and anonymous wall drawings seem different to me; they seem to be signs of generosity and confident independence, leaving stories as gifts or riddles for those who follow, like the cave paintings of many cultures around the world. Perhaps it is the viewer who decides the value of these images based on context? If we didn't know these images were painted on abandoned buildings or underground tunnels, would we assume something different about their value? If we thought they were painted by a famous artist rather than an anonymous rebel, would we view them with a more discerning eye?

The late Keith Haring's work inspires me... and sometimes disturbs me, too. From its early days, blooming on the blank spaces of subway walls, his work has grown to international acclaim and commercial reproduction (needless disclaimer: I own a bright pink lunchbag featuring a Keith Haring drawing, complete with a figurative zipper pull.) His work has a unique look and feel: lively, often humourous and seemingly unafraid, using simple (and even child-like) lines and shapes to express his imagination, both in light and in darkness.

I can't see myself ever becoming a true graffiti artist, but I wonder what elements really appeal to me and cry out to be incorporated in my own work: a sense of "devil-may-care" rebellion in the face of too many rules? A willingness to create something "quick and dirty" without judgment, then walk away and leave the work behind: to be viewed, erased, improved or obliterated by other artists? A need to share a call to action: to right the wrongs of the world and bring on a healthy dose of justice for all?

I'm not sure yet; but when I figure it out, I'll be sure to share "the writing on the wall."

Teachers and Guides

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Where would we be without the talent and inspiration of those who are generous enough to share their learning with us?

I was privileged to meet Rosemary Makhan many years ago when I was program director at West Island Quilters guild. We invited her to come and teach us appliqué techniques based on her beautiful Rose of Sharon quilt, and she graciously accepted.

In case you don't already know, quilts made from Rosemary's patterns are consistent award winners at quilt shows across the country and around the world (I believe one member of our guild has won at least two Viewer's Choice awards based on Rosemary's designs.)

Rosemary was meticulous in her methods and generous in sharing her insights. She was a gentle and lovely teacher; I was saddened to hear of her death in January this year.

In her memory, I have given the two blocks I completed at her workshop a place of honour on my design wall, to remind me and to inspire me. I have been working at my version of her quilt periodically for the past couple of years. Progress is slow but small steps are being made.... And I think now that the name I chose for my version all those years ago, based on the X and O shapes of the two repeating blocks, is more fitting than ever: Hugs and Kisses.

Thank you Rosemary... for sharing your spirit and your talents, and for continuing to inspire. Rest in peace.