Makers like us want to make in a way where we aren’t making our slow fashion = fast fashion.
We want to make in a way that is intentional and conscious and not overly excessive. But figuring out what that looks like can be incredibly tricky. (And different for everyone.)
Each of us have to find a way to make that is inline with our values in order for our making practice to be truly congruent. Which we want cause congruency makes us feel good, and being out of alignment makes us feel wonky in spirit.
So today, I want to propose a more generous way of thinking about restriction around what we make, because language matters. The language we use establishes the context of our thinking. If we feel restricted our urge is rebel - or mine is anyway :). Tell me to make less and all I want to do is make more. But that want is momentary and overcomeable with some thought and intention.
My real want? My deeply held want? I really want to make in a way that is congruent, with my intentions and my values, because that is where my making truly nourishes me.
But we swim a soup of consumerism that says that more is better; culturally we are a little addicted to trying to feel special through stuff. Where one way to feel special is to have all the supplies and make all the things. More as evidence that we matter.
We need to retrace our steps.
We makers got into making in our desire to be engaged. To create things with our own two hands to elevate our everyday. And it is a beautiful impulse.
But to make = more. There is no way around it.
But also - we are makers who want to make in a thoughtful way! We come to making with good intentions. We try to be conscious about how we make. We put thought into it. We want to not be so consumeristic and so wasteful. We want our making to make the world a better place. We want to be in the game.
But to be in the game we are going against the predominant culture. Making culture - especially instagram making culture - is just a thick gloopy extension of the culture of consumerism that we swim in. We are influenced. To buy. To keep up. To support businesses doing good things. To buy things we don’t need in the name of being “ethical”.
So how do we shift our thinking? How do we avoid getting caught up in the more more more of instagram making culture? How do we align our making practice more holistically with our values?
What do we do about the desire to make? How do we keep making - the thing that brings us joy and elevates our everyday - while also not being total environmental vandals? How do we curb the urge to make more? And more. And more. Especially when we know we have enough. How do we make in a way that is congruent with our values?
It’s a question I ask often. And it should be asked often, as it’s an easy wagon to fall off.
Sometimes I don’t like the answers I’m giving myself - because sometimes I get sucked in through my own desire and FOMO to make more. But it is a question I will continue to ask myself - and you, and us as a community of makers.
I recently read Sarah Wilsons’ This One Wild And Precious Life and she talks about asking big beautiful questions! A beautiful idea for how to live a conscious life.
What would be a big beautiful question about how to make given our values and concern for the environment? What about….“How do we have a making practice that elevates not just our hearts, but our communities and the earth too? ”
A big part of that is by being conscious about what we make and how much and ultimately making less. Now to those of you - who like myself - love making as often as possible, the idea of making less may potentially sound like a horrifying thought. But when it feels horrifying, it feels hard - and that is not helpful.
So I’ve been thinking about language! Could my framing of “making less” feel better. And by framing it differently could I actually encourage myself to make less. Could I even go so far as to make “making less” feel good?
What if I can think of restriction in a generous way? Would it feel better to make less if it could feel more abundant? Maybe, that would make the restriction feel better. Perhaps?
Last week I spent a bit of time wandering around #makeless hashtags when I came across #makelessmakebetter. There were only a few posts but it looked like it was around these kinds of ideas. Let’s make less, and while we are doing so, let’s take the time to make better.
It’s a concept I’ve spoken about before in a variety of ways but it still hasn’t felt abundant, and I suspect it’s in the framing.
“More” is one of the ways we make ourselves feel special and important so when we talk about “less” in terms of stuff it can feel stressful. Less material goods, less food, less sleep, less shelter probably doesn’t feel that great from an evolutionary point of view. Less may be translating to “not enough” in our lizard brains, which then means we rebel or panic, and chase “more” even though more doesn’t make us feel good.
OK. Fair enough. But then as I was thinking about it this week it occurred to me that maybe all we need is to turn the hashtag around? We could make it "#makebettermakeless where the focus of our making, the first thing we do, is not to make less, but to make better!!
Maybe by making better we may satisfy the parts of us that are looking for “special”, such that the desire for more is damped down? Because better feels good. Better feels satisfying and elevated and joyous. It’s better.
More is just one way of feeling special. An alternative way of feeling special is to make better!
The very special buy “better” rather than “more” skirt.
A little analogy to bring home the point. As part of Stash Less many years back I stopped shopping. It was hard and it took practice to not use shopping as a pastime, but as time went on I realised there was some true joy hidden inside the practice.
By not shopping, at all, I saved a big pile of money. It also meant that about once every year or two I could buy something truly special. The skirt I am wearing in the picture above is not something I would have ever purchased in my pre Stash Less days. It cost $240 and that would have felt excessive. Don’t get me wrong it is worth $240 as it is handmade and unique (and uses so much beautiful fabric!). But pre-StashLess I would have felt spending that amount of money was too much. I would have purchased 3 things or 4 things or 5 things for my $240 over the year. And all of them would have been of dubious quality and when I wore them I would have felt OK. Not great but OK. But wearing my beautiful $240 unique piece of art I feel spectacular. It feels special and I feel special when I wear it. And it will last me for at least a decade. And that feels glorious.
Holding “making better” as my focus maybe I could damp down my desire to make so much? Because better takes more time and more thought and planning. Making better involves considering more completely and holistically the full life cycle of the things I am making. It takes care and consideration. It involves being focused on quality. It involves spending more time on our actual making to make things truly beautiful and fit for purpose…. but rather than having perfectionism or mastery as goals (which sometimes do not serve us), our goals would be around the impact our making was having on us, or the earth.
"Making better" might be a way of using language to frame "making less" such that it feels less like a restriction, and more like an abundant and generous act. And don’t we all want to feel like abundant and generous people?
I’ll post again soon about what make better looks like in my making practice in this moment*, but I would love to hear from you about where you are at with this topic. Have you thought about it? Are you thinking about it?
Please weigh in as I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Felicia x
*I’m going to be tagging my makes with #makebettermakeless to remind me of what I’m trying to do.
