It takes me a long time to create things.
This can be ironic, as I spend many hours multitasking life with creation. (Yes I'm the one you see knitting in the movie theater, and during the sermon on Sunday, and in the Meeting, and so on and so forth). One of the reasons it takes so long for me to create anything is because I'm forever ripping things out and starting over.
Case and Point.
Davids Jean Quilt.
It was all pieced. All ready to go. But there was a flaw. Half of it came apart. It had to be just right.
It irked me to no end. I thought I had planned it so well. Figured exactly how the rows were to be created, and how the colors were to go. I made one little error, and the whole thing was thrown off.
I do it all the time with knitting. I made a pair of Dobby Socks for my friend Becky. I researched sock making. Had an expert teach me heels and I worked long and hard on them. I tore them apart over 5 times.
Is it that I can't handle giving things that are flawed? Is it that I have an idea or standard that has to be lived up to? Is it that I have to be in control?
For me, an essential part of creation is destruction. I attempt things I can't do, so that I can learn from them. This doesn't always turn out well, and I find myself ripping out seams or stitches. This can be annoying, but it is also a promise. That's a mistake I'll be less likely to make in the future. Or I learn causality of a method, and it gives me an arsenal of ideas that help me create things without a pattern. Every place there is destruction, I have the opportunity to make something new. Transforming what is
into what could be:
It is not the creation itself, but it's partnership with destruction that gives me room to grow, to get beyond myself. To be able to dream outside of the probable, and even the possible.
Happy Creation and Destruction,