Glimpsing those inner demons

Last night at dinner, as we were waiting for our food, my daughter said she felt restless. "Do you want to go outside and walk it off?" I asked.

"Not that kind of restless," she replied. "I'm just itching to make something." Ah, I thought -- I know that feeling well. And, in fact, I have just spent the better part of a week "making something."

It was supposed to be a scarf; I'd seen it in a workshop and came home determined to see if I could duplicate it. But last night, having finally put it all together, my first reaction was "you failed!" And inside a little voice immediately chimed in in parentheses ("again.") So I stuffed the scarf away, tidied up all the little bits of yarn trimmed off from the knots I'd made to stitch it all together, crawled into bed and read myself to sleep.

This morning I decided to give it another chance: so what if it's not the tastefully exuberant charmer its model was; perhaps I could wear it outside my coat -- at least it might keep me warm in the Portland wind. So I wrapped the scarf around my neck and headed out to Starbucks for my morning coffee.

So I'll backtrack a minute here, and explain that the scarf is made up of lots of crocheted circles, many of which are one or the other of the two colors in this image, turquoise and a sort of orangey red. There's also black, a light greenish-gray, and a gorgeous multicolored yarn which contributes not only to the circles but also was used to create random explosions of fringe down the whole length of the scarf. As the woman who took my order at Starbucks said, "Wow! I love your scarf -- it has a LOT of personality!"

And, as I replied, I'm afraid the scarf has more personality than I have!

The problem with it is exactly that: it's just too big a statement. The circles are way too large (something which, because of the way it's constructed, I couldn't really know until it was all put together); the colors are just too strong; the yarns are too thick, the fringe is too stiff... and, when you put it all together, it's really too big and bulky to wear (as was originally intended) as just an indoor decoration, tastefully draped over a turtleneck. And, frankly, it takes courage to wear this scarf because... well... it's just not easy to ignore!

So then, returning to my hotel, dressed in my bright green jacket and multi-colored scarf, passing all the black-garbed folk who walk the city streets on their way to work, I asked myself the question my husband always asks the kids when they've gotten themselves into trouble: "So what have you learned from this?" There are LOTS of answers to that question at a lot of different levels; I will list as many of them here as I can remember -- they went by pretty fast -- and just note that these are more for my edification than for yours. Something tells me I need to think about this one a bit, because something about this was actually scary; even guilty. So odd.

1. The only should about buying yarn (or fabric) for something you're making for yourself is this: if you don't like the color in the shop, don't buy it just because "it's supposed to be that color." Because the fact is, if you don't like it in the shop, you probably won't like it on your body, either! (duh)

2. If you see something you like and think you'd like to make it, take time to measure it and write down the measurements. Apparently eyeballing it (for me, at least) no longer provides an accurate assessment (if it ever did). (aside to my husband -- too many years of seeing 6 inches as 9!)

3. I LOVE color -- I always have. But loving to look at it is not the same as loving to wear it.

And 4: this project reveals all sorts of inner demons and messages (which is why this image is so perfect). Here are some of the things they say when I take the time to listen:

a. Something about you is just always determined to be larger than life: when will you ever master subtlety?

b. You never do it right.

c. Every time you try to be or do something attractive or tasteful you fail. You're always overdone or underdone; you never fit in. (hey, these are just the voices; I didn't say they were true! But you have to ask, why does it matter so much?)

d. Hmm. There seems to be a conflict here between your love of color and your deep-seated desire to fit in and be invisible. Not the first time THAT's proved a problem! Something about my strong left-brain has always been a bit embarrassed by my strong right-brain. Perhaps I am mirroring a lifetime of tensions between my stoic engineer father and my embarrassingly emotional artist/musician mother?

e. Clearly this is part of who you are. Why can't you just wear it with panache and accept it? Why are you so conscious (and afraid) of what others might think? At your age you should be totally at peace with that stuff (should, should, should)

f. Quite literally, F. for FAILED. You failed. Again. And, OMG, look: there's a side order of shame with that, a voice squeaking, "see, you were too lazy to do it right, you rushed into it and screwed it up again -- and wasted money in the bargain. This is what you get for coveting something." Whoa. Where is THAT coming from?

And if, since I'm not quite sure I will wear it again (though I should probably wear it every day for a week and just get used to it, see if it brings me more insights, takes me to another bolder place) I were to drape it on my wall as a reminder, what would it be a reminder OF? Would it tell me not to take risks? Or just not to copy other people's work? Would it tell me to listen to my instincts? Or would it keep those inner demons dancing out where I can see them, so maybe I can learn to live with them -- or even dance with them? And what about this: what if I might actually learn to LIKE it!

And, the most important question: would I try this again, learn from my mistakes, create something quieter, smaller, lighter, simpler? Or just give up? Maybe I'm just supposed to do what I do well, stick to writing and photography; leave the rest to others who do it better?

It's a conundrum. And an adventure. Or maybe it's just a scarf. As one of my friends is fond of saying, "it is what it is." Part of the perils of living the creative life...