Patchwork and Mending

"Mending is part of being alive" - Mending Life A Handbook for Repairing Clothes and Hearts, Nina and Sonya Montenegro

Pete and I have been living, patching, mending and meddling as we grow to know ourselves and this amazing, befuddling, and truly upendable journey on Earth. This post is a tribute and celebration of a few of the ways we have pieced things (metal, screws, nuts, fabric, thread, friendships) together and find the playfulness that might otherwise be lost. The moments between a stitch to position a button, a pause between a cut of the tin snips making a curve ... in that void where the mystery lives the difference between drudgery and delight shows up. Who would know until you began and then paused.  

In the process of doing the work, a shift in attitude turns things around, or upside down.

The brown and red metal siding and poles seen here used to hold together a twelve foot long Quonset Hut in the woods when we lived with our friends Mary, Eileen and Jots. Our friendship with these pals continues; Mary and Eileen still live in the woods and our four-legged pal Jots has gone lele to run, hunt and chase birds in the spirit land. 

Over the past several weeks Pete re-calculated, scaled-down and patchworked a smaller version Quonset Hut to create a kitchen/green house/ be house on Ke Kuapa 'o Maxwelton Creek

Once the mini Quonset shell was pau, the next step was to move her out of the Alder Wood (the Man Cave) and near the vardo. We needed help to do that. Our neighbor Mike said he'd help; and he did. The process was a slow and deliberate rolling on pipes routine. It's a dance step that can only be appreciated when you see it in action, or participate in the doing. 

The mini Quonset is parked next to the mound of growing Spaghetti Squash, and Ohe. There are other steps to figure out before we have a warm, dry, cozy place for cooking. 

But for a moment, here's Pete. Appreciating the work he's done so far.

While we work with the creation of a warm winter space, there are clothes in need of mending. 

Thirteen years ago I found this warm winter coat at the thrift shop on California Avenue in West Seattle. We were newly back to Washington from O'ahu. It was May, just starting to show signs of spring but it was cool for us. I don't remember exactly when I started hunting for winter clothes (it takes us awhile to 'ready' used clothes for use in our world ... airing, washing, airing some more). The airing and washing got done in the season of 2008. I have been wearing that coat ever since.

She, (I can't bring myself to call my coat 'it' ... seems disrespectful), is worn and frayed in many places. The cuffs are getting patches.

Years ago the zipper stopped working, and two of the snaps stopped snapping. I've used my stand-by safety pins to hold the front together.  But thanks to the arrival of a my new favorite book Mending Life, I have been re-inspired to mend anew. I take Nina and Sonya Montenegro's philosophy of mending into me like coconut water fresh from the nut:

"Mending is a powerful act of restoration both for our clothes and for our relationship to the world. We mend in gratitude, honoring all that went into making our clothes: the people who labored to bring them into being, and the plants and animals that contributed to their creation. In taking care of that which takes care of us we are demonstrating a deep understanding of our interconnectedness with every part of this world. When we sit down to mend, we cultivate a mindset that extends beyond clothing. Much like meditation, mending teaches us to embrace imperfection, and to practice patience and acceptance with ourselves. Through mending, we become accustomed to seeing our hand in the things we own. We become an active participant in their evolution."

As I write to you, four new buttons and four brightly stitched button holes are holding my jacket together. I need the jacket to make breakfast between sentences. Baby, it's cold outside. Not winter cold but damp and cold enough to need wool socks, rubber roots and my brightly patched winter coat.

I hear and read a lot about 'the supply chain' and empty shelves; the cargo ships parked in the harbors? Loaded or not loaded with the commodities and stuff we believe we need is part of the upendedness of the way we fill or refill our lives. 

Another page from Mending Life offers an approach that could substitute for the angst of empty shelves and gaps in the supply chain. 

The chapter, "The Art of Patching" begins with: "Patches on clothes have seen a wayward journey in meaning. They were essentially a symbol of poverty until the 1960's, when this symbolism was subverted by the hippies and later by the punks who adopted them as an expression of rebellion. Nowadays, sporting a patch suggests that you are mindful of the environment. Patches are even en vogue!"

There is another supply chain that is a little or a lot different from the one that stocks the shelves, or appears on our favorite website along with access to the lure of "Free Shipping" via our modern day Pony Express -- USPS, UPS, FedEX. That supply chain is the human to human, friend who has made a choice to read fewer emails but will answer a phone call; the FaceTime video calls and texts that fill the need for seeing people we love. It was our friend Maurine who recommended the sweet book on mending. We talked the long deep conversation sort of supply chain the other day. 

FaceTime videos with our family in Kaneohe keep us current in the life of a boy who transforms daily, and loves the smell of basil. Life is an ever revolving, spiraling journey. Mystery and mundane magic or dramatic change part of the whole shebang. 

I'm grateful to be alive to see somethings sustain and enjoy a revival -- patches and mends -- while also making room to learn how to send a text, and update our iphone to be part of the cyber highway so I can see things like this:

Are you a mender? I would love to hear about your mends, patches and repair jobs. Or better yet, share a snap of your patchwork.

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