Local friends, come out and join me for a needle-felting class at the Franklin Arts Center. I'll be teaching for The Crossing Arts Alliance, a swell little non-profit (that I happen to work for) located there.
We'll be making a puffy little heart brooch and embellishing it with stitches. We'll be working through some of the challenges of sewing on this type of surface, and maybe adding some beads too.
Last weekend I taught a pincushion class and had a great time. There are a few images from that class on my facebook page. We had a lovely group of ladies and they all did a wonderful, creative job.
It feels good to be back in the creative saddle (so to speak). And as I commented to someone on Facebook, being around these wonderful women, creating, is a special kind of salve.
I really enjoy teaching, and I'm hoping to do more of it.
I'm working on that now, reaching out to groups locally and regionally.
Someday, I hope to have my own special space where creative souls can gather, share, learn, and where I can surround myself with wool and happiness, and make a living. It's my dream, and I've plan to say it out loud from time to time so the universe can hear me and I can be reminded towards what I'm working.
A return to creativity came in the form of a cake.
I've struggled since my dad's death to find my creative footing. Tasks that should have been performed by muscle memory were impossible. Needle and thread offered no consolation. My muse was silent. My creativity, vanished.
I've been careful not to set a limit on my grief, not to rush myself, trying not to grow impatient with the parts of me missing.
Though I'm still grieving (and always will, I suspect), it was the task of making my daughter's birthday cake that lit a spark inside me. Her birthday is Christmas Eve, and being determined to make her birthday special and separate, I always commit to making a special cake, per her specific demands.
This year it was a stump.
As I sat down with fondant and chocolate bark and nilla wafers I felt...excited. The task was fun and my hands did it easily (not quickly, though. I'm a slow cake-maker). I was creating! It wasn't wool, but it was creativity nonetheless.
So with that spark lit, I'm scheduling a workshop, ordering some wool, and dusting the cobwebs out of my workspace. I'm being careful not to set high expectations for myself, but I'm eager to dip my toe back into creative waters.
And most importantly, for all of you who left me a comment (I read every one, even though they aren't posted) about my dad's passing, or sent me an email, or who held me in your thoughts, thank you. It is an amazing thing to feel so much good in the world when you're utterly convinced there isn't any.