My Sewing Machine is Alive

Stitching, whether by machine or hand isn’t strictly for garment making. I don’t know if I will ever make something to wear but I dream of making a coat for some unknown reason. I chuckle at this thought of making a coat. I chuckle because it is so familiar to me that I would go from limited knowledge or background and spontaneous leap to a humungous project simply because I desire to do something.

For now, as I learn to sew, I am working with scraps of fabric and paper and making sewing marks both by hand and by machine. I will never forget my first sewing adventure, the day I repaired the elastic in some pyjamas then invisibly, well almost invisibly, sewed the hem closed. It was such a high for me. I felt so proud and so accomplished in figuring out how to repair something and in mastering the tiny stitches it takes to finish a repair.

Sewing has not come easy to me. It has taken me a very long time to allow myself to learn. I am self-taught and still have a very long way to go with my learning but I can say with some confidence that I know my way around my machine - sometimes. It is in the ritual of returning to the machine and allowing myself to be a beginner that I begin to understand the mechanics of the machine. It is in the repetition of threading the bobbin and threading the machine, reading and re-reading the manual a thousand times, knowing the parts of the machine and then trouble-shooting when something goes awry I begin to see I really do know something about sewing.

I love my sewing machine. I know it sounds funny, but I do love it, so very much! When I am finished using it I carefully cover it (with a cover I made of course) and I thank it for its strength, its power, its purpose, its creativity, and its soul. I honour it and protect it because I don’t know what I would do without it. It has me thinking just now - if I only I honoured myself, in this way, all of the time, what sort of person could I be.