At this time of year we are often making plans. Plans for our lives, and plans for our making. It’s a time full of possibility, and for me is one of the funnest parts of our making practice.
Who doesn’t love wandering through our metaphorical and non-metaphorical shelves of ideas? Oh the sweaters we could knit. The jumpsuits and cushions and frocks we could make. Quilts. Blankets. Socks. Won’t it all be wonderful!
But while that possibility is exciting, I’ve found it can also be problematic for me if I spend too much time rolling around in it.
You see the problem with possibility is that it is infinite, it’s perfect and it doesn’t make us proud.
Possibility As Infinite
When we are roaming around in our imaginations, it can feel like there is no cost to indulging many many ideas. But this can get a little problematic in an eye’s too big for our stomach kinda way. We can get a little greedy. We can sit in wanting too much, and even start feeling that we need too much. And that makes sense.
Because possibility is a future looking state. Possibility is us thinking about what could happen in the future; a future that is not bounded by our real time restrictions of time and money and skills and environmental values.
The infinite options that possibility offers have us necessarily sitting in a place of desire. Of wanting. Of more and of needing more to be satisfied.
When we are sitting in future-focused possibility we aren’t grounded in present-state gratitude for what we already have. Because we can’t simultaneously feel possibility and gratitude.
So while possibility can be a space of inspiration and joy, it can equally be a space of not-enough-ness because we can never have all the things we imagine. It’s a space where we can feel overwhelmed by all the things we will never get to make, rather than all the things we have.
This applies to materials as well as to our makes.
I wrote a post for Stash Less about desire here and another about what true freedom (from desire) looks like. These ideas changed my life and made me so much more contented.
A gorgeous little sweater for a grand-baby of someone special.
My ongoing and exceedingly thrilling wedding quilt.
Possibility As Perfection
Possibility problem number 2 is that because the things we are imagining making when we roll around in possibility aren’t real, we see them in their perfect state. The things we are going to make are going to be beautiful. They are going to turn out exactly as we had envisioned and fit us like a glove.
And the actual process of the making - well, it is also going to be a total joy! Pieces are going to come together easily and without error. The boring bits are going to be minimal and we will have the delight of playing with beautiful materials. The who process is going to be splendid.
But none of this is real. In real life the materials don’t always behave beautifully. We make mistakes because we are engaged in a real process - and in real processes mistakes are inevitable. The colours don’t combine as beautifully as we’d hoped. The idea we had in our heads doesn’t always translate to the object.
This can lead us to feeling less satisfied with our makes - unless we are able to temper our possibility with some reality. It can also lead us to not make at all - I’ve heard so many stories over the years of humans who tell me that they haven’t made the thing they are dreaming of making because they aren’t sure it is going to turn out as they’d hoped.
Possibility can set the bar way too high.
Possibility Can’t Make Us Proud
But that isn’t the worst of it. The trickiest thing about possibility is that while it can be moorish ( for some people even addictive) and deliciously sparkly, that moorishness comes at a cost. It’s actually a little like a good glass of bubbles. One glass is divine. Two delicious but any more than that can leave you with a hangover and nothing to show for it.
Too much posibility is costly. It costs us in making time but also in actual engagement with the things that matter to us. As makers, y’know people who identify as people who make things, what we measure ourselves against is whether or not we are making. It doesn’t matter if we are slow or fast. What matters is that we are engaged with manifesting objects in a way that is in alignment with our values.
And here is the bit that I try to remember when I feel myself getting sucked into the possibility bubble - I cannot be proud of sitting in possibility. Because possibility is a passive space - yes there might be some planning involved and some analysis of how things might go together - and yes only you can decide how much possibility is too much - but at the end of the day if I sit in possibility on Instagram for 2 hours I have nothing to show for my time.
Now of course not all time needs to be productive - and I need to go back to my statement that only you will know how much possibility is too much. But here is what is important.
Possibility isn’t making.
And we can’t be proud of our time there.
I am not proud of thinking about going to the gym (something I did regularly for 2021 and 2020) but I am very proud of going to the gym (what I have been doing for 2022 and 2015-2019). Because I showed up for myself. I did something that matters to me. I created something that was beautiful. And I engaged with my values. (I really need a fist bump emoji here.)
Much of the joy we get from our making comes from living with the craftefacts of our past endeavours. Especially those endeavours that resulted in our “becoming”, where we learnt something, or stretched ourselves. Or when we made a thing that was totally aligned with our value system - which is very much what many of my Stash Less Projects have been. By making things that are aligned with my value system is infinitely more satisfying because they are congruent. Which makes me feel congruent.
A small pile of as-yet-posted charity baby sweaters. So far this little project has raised over $500 for the ASRC.
On Planning Our Way Out Of Possibility
Anyway. There is a way forward. I have to use these all the time as “too much” engagement with possibility is something I periodically fall into because I am a human. Which is fine. All I need is a go-to list to walk my way back to making. And I thought I’d share it here.
With each passing year I feel the need to get even more grounded and more thoughtful about choosing my makes by engaging with the idea of planning my year in a different way.
The three key ways I move my making towards more thoughtful, considered and sustainable outcomes;
I make a making list - what do I need to make, and can I make those things with what I already have. I find this list is often what stops me from purchasing.
I re-read Enough Is As Good As A Feast. How much do I really need. Can I make seven instead of making nine? Or make five. Would that be equally as satisfying if I made them hard and slow.
Make more for others and less for ourselves. Redirect our making energy into making for the people we love or our wider communities. How can I contribute?
That last point is one of my favourites for this year. It is going to be my focus. Turns out I personally have enough hand-knit sweaters. So who do I love that might appreciate one. Who can I make for as a sign of my appreciation and love. How can I use my making to build love and connection with my community?
And I plan on knitting some more little charity sweaters as a three-birds-one-stone act whereby I (a) get the joy of making them, (b) I raise a little cash for charity, and (c) the person in question really wants/loves the object.
Anyhoo, I’d love your thoughts on your making year? How are you deciding what to make?
Felicia x
