unfinishing school
The cable that connects my knitting needles is mostly broken, and so I am sitting with needles that threaten to unravel my entire project if I breathe on them the wrong way. But instead of waiting until the replacement arrives, I’m holding my breath and knitting away anyway, tugging very gently. I need the steady growth of fabric in my hands, more so than I need the garment.
My favorite part of a project, though, is when it’s done. I love being FINISHED — that moment I can pull the sweater on, clip the loose threads of a dress and toss it in the wash, tie ribbons around a soft blanket and give it to a new niecephew — look, I did that, it’s done, time to move on to the next thing. Often, I barely even give myself the time to celebrate before I start dreaming of the next thing — the next quilt, the next dress, the next recipe, the next class — ooh what about a dye garden?!
My little studio is littered with unfinished projects. The first sweater, which I knit over the first year I worked in maternal mortality prevention, wore almost daily for the next three years, and then accidentally felted and haven’t been able to un-felt yet. The first quilt, a map of my home city I started embroidering when I lived a thousand miles from anyone I loved. The second sweater, which I knew was too itchy and the wrong size and for some reason I kept going anyway. The second quilt, the grief quilt, which I can only touch when I’m in the mood for either catharsis or Bollywood (or both — those are synonymous, really).
I’ve learned to quit things over my life — jobs, relationships, career paths — to leave and be done when it’s over, really and truly finished. But I’m still learning to be okay with leaving things unfinished — to let go without saying the last word, to leave even though I haven’t seen it through to the bitter end. The unfinished always seems to linger, full of shoulds and abandonment issues, like a box of wilted salad greens or a morosely incomplete checklist.
Sometimes, though, the process is the point. Stitching my city, street by street, gave me a lifeline of hope that I would come back, someday — and the homesickness evaporated when I did, four years later. The grief quilt is a GRIEF QUILT, ffs — when is grief ever finished? The stitches on my knitting needles might slip off unseen, but their purpose is to give me the sense that whenever the world is overwhelming, unstable, chaotic — I can always make something, with my own two hands. I can trust in the simple process of loops of thread growing steadily into a swath of fabric.
The finish line is a wonder, but the process is a miracle of comfort.
May we attend to the unfinishing.
1:1 equity coaching
I’m excited to share that I have five equity coaching spots open right now!
My sweet spot is supporting people who live, work, and play at the intersections of privilege and oppression, exploring those identities in their lives, workplaces, or creative practices.
Maybe you’ve experienced a catalytic event, a rupture that has shaken what you thought you knew to be true. Maybe you’re just exhausted from the chronic pain of living and working under systems of oppression and marginalization. Either way, I'd love to support you. We’ll move from fear, rupture, and despair to abundant self-trust, gentle but fierce accountability, and resonant connection.
This work is human-centered systems change, where we unlearn the ways in which power corrupts us, recover from the trauma it causes, and learn to steward it wisely. I appreciate your help in spreading the word — and if this work calls to you, reach out with any questions.
a few medicines:
“Ordinary delight keeps showing up,” especially in Sarah’s watercolor comic diaries (on handsewn paper, no less!)
“Chosen solitude expands before you like a luscious carpet; unchosen solitude can be so heavy, so enveloping, as to dissolve all boundaries between the self and the emptiness that fills the air.”
Highly recommend taking a pair of very sharp scissors to clothes about which you feel some type of way. I cropped my least favorite sweatshirt one morning last week, and now it is my hyperfixation sweatshirt.
I rely on Stephanie’s beautifully researched Abortion Updates for the latest on the current reproductive landscape — with love also for my queer family watching transphobic hate be legislated. Our fights are intertwined; our work is interconnected.
until next time.