Persistance Pays Off

I'm feeling pretty good about a recent accomplishment. I set a goal and stuck with it even when it got frustrating to the point of tears. I decided I wanted to make something fun for my family for Christmas presents. I had a cool pattern for making Polar Fleece Socks. There was just one problem with that. I don't sew. Not that I don't usually sew or I don't care to sew. I mean I don't sew at ALL, like I never really learned. I don't even thread needles.

But I do own a sewing machine that I bought about 35 years ago. I've hauled that darn thing all over the country with me every time we moved. A few different times in the past 20 years I had actually tried to make various items. Most of the results of those early efforts were somewhere between disappointment and disaster. So I gave up. I just never got rid of the machine.

I knew from experience from all my failed attempts in the past that just going at it alone was not likely to turn out much different, no matter how enthusiastic my intentions might be. So this time I found someone who has MUCH successful experience sewing to help me get started. We made the first pair of socks together at her house to show me the ropes. Then,she gave my old machine a thorough review and oiling, pronouncing it a dandy despite it's age and years of neglect. So, armed with renewed confidence and determination I set off for home to continue the project solo.

Enter ominous music from movie Jaws at this point.

Suffice it to say that initially all did not go well. At one point I was terribly frustrated, convinced I was incapable. One pair of socks had it's stitching done wrong and ripped out three different times. (I know, I'm a dork. How hard could this be??)

But this time I DID NOT QUIT.

I kept at it. My first pair on my own didn't look all that great. The seams on the ribbing cuffs did not match up quite right with the seam on the sock. The pattern of the fleece on one foot did not match the pattern position on the other foot. They were maybe just a tad lopsided. But you know what? They were still cozy and warm. So rather than tear them out again or give up, I kept going.

EVENTUALLY I had produced five pairs of polar fleece socks with contrasting soles and ribbing cuffs that were down right acceptable. They were NOT perfect by any means. But I still gave them to my family as gifts and they loved them. See!



There were several key lessons learned by this process...
1) When learning a new skill it really helps to have a guide who knows what they are doing.
2) Perfection is not the goal. It's ok to have high standards, but if I am not willing to tolerate some mistakes along the way I'll never learn anything new.
3) It really did get easier by the 5th pair. If I just keep at it long enough, it gets better.

I don't know if I am ever going to be a skilled seamstress. But I'm pretty darned proud of those socks. And I aim to keep trying and keep learning. Sewing can be a cool thing. Besides, I've carried around that silly machine for a long time. It's long overdue to be put to good use!

It's about time I learned that I can make something besides just Macaroni angels!

Lessons in the Glass Studio

Yesterday I got the last pieces of my stained glass project cut and foiled. Next comes the soldering which I will do (or at least start) next Friday.

I've really enjoyed doing this work, despite a few cuts on my hands and some ruined pieces of glass that taught me that no matter how careful you may be, sometimes the glass has a mind of its own. I've learned a lot about being in partnership with the medium rather than in control of it. I've also learned a lot about striving for excellence without expecting perfection. I believe those lessons may serve me well in many arenas of life besides the making of stained glass.

I'm very much looking forward to learning more about glass work and hope that in a year or two I may have developed the skill to producer more complex work. For now, I'll be satisfied with basic small pieces that I'll mostly give away to friends and family. My main goal at this stage of the game is not to expect to produce any great masterpieces. But I AM producing something precious by giving myself a creative outlet and learning to appreciate my own efforts even when there are flaws.

If there's anyone out there reading this blog who does work with stained glass please let me know, ok? Do you have some favorite sources for supplies? Any special tips to offer to the newbie on the block?

MASTERY

One of the classes I am teaching this summer is "Academic Success", using the textbook "Becoming a Master Student" by Dave Ellis.

According to Ellis, "A master is a person who has attained a level of skill that goes beyond technique. for a master, methods and procedures are automatic responses to the needs of the task. Work is effortless; struggle evaporates. The master carpenter is so familiar with her tools, they are a part of her." (p 43)

Some of us are born with raw talent in some areas. But even then it is usually a matter of POTENTIAL mastery, not the mastery itself. If I have learned anything at all, it is that we have to be able to stand stinking at a task for a while as we practice and refine our method before mastery will come. The novice work is by definition rough and lacking in some ways. But over time, if a person keeps at it, he or she generally develops skill sets than enable mastery.

Last night I spent several hours in the glass studio working on the stained glass project I've been doing. As this is my first ever attempt at working with glass, I am still very VERY much at the novice stage. My seams aren't as tight as I would like them to be. My cuts don't always break clean. In any number of ways my work is rough, bordering on sloppy. I'm trying my very best, but even when spending many painstaking careful hours, what I am producing is pretty marginal at best.

What I am trying to remind myself is that what I am creating in that studio is NOT just a colorful piece of stained glass. I am producing skill sets. I am producing patience. I am producing creativity. I am producing a willingness to be more gentle with myself when I make mistakes. I am producing a sense of connection with other artists. I am producing any number of things that don't show up on my work table. And if I keep at it long enough, who knows? Maybe I can get closer to developing some level of mastery.

But I have to be willing to endure this stage first.

SO many times in the past I have run away from projects because I hated my bumbling efforts. I would flock back to what I was good at, because the sense of accomplishment I'd get there was so rewarding. The problem with hating failure and/or poor results is that I limit myself by being afraid to try anything new.

Blogger Paula Spurr says on her profile: "I am an artist. I am an actor. I am a musician. I am a dancer. I am a lover. I am a writer. I am not very good at any of these things yet, but I continue to do them. Why let mediocrity stop me? The things I'm good at, like rage and laziness, I'd rather stop practicing anyway."

There's a lesson there for me.

Even if I NEVER get very skilled at working with glass, if it brings me joy, connects me with good people and creates things people appreciate - if for no other reason than I made it for them with love, what does it matter if I'm not a master?

I'm trying to let go of my long pattern of perfectionism. I do want to maintain standards of striving for excellence in all that I do. Still, it's time I give up the idea that making mistakes is unacceptable. Missing the mark is just human. I'm going to make lots of mistakes. I make mistakes when I try to cut a new piece of glass and it breaks along the wrong line. I make a mistake when I don't give my best effort at a job I've committed to. I make a mistake when I'm caught up in my own thoughts when I am claiming to be present to listen to you. I make a mistake when I think my life and my problems are more important than some other person's, simply because they are my own.

Whether it's art or work or being human, I want to recognize my mistakes so I can learn from them. In so doing, I can continue to step by step build skill sets to bring me closer to the stage of mastery Ellis speaks of. However, just as important, I think, is allowing myself a bit of grace for not being there yet.