Monday, September 3, 2012

The Sweater Trimming Meditation

'Fuzzy Sweater' painting by Mark Hall
It's time to get out the heavier clothing in anticipation of cooler weather. Everything has been packed away in totes with lids and plastic bags,it's all a bit into the washer it goes. The luxury of dry cleaning is unknown, and there is no dryer here, so laundry is done the old fashioned way...dried on the rack or line. The line is usually full, and it's been raining recently, but the rack is in my room, and there is a fan to help with the process. I became dependent and spoiled by the availability of an automatic washer and dryer at most of the other places I've lived, having to wait for clothing to dry harkens back to the days of my childhood, when the backyard clothes line was the only option.

Everything goes into the washer or is washed by hand, including sweaters, which must be drip-dried and shaped by hand. And as we all know, most wool or wool blends "pill" and develop those unsightly little balls of fuzz. I used to own a lovely little machine  that "shaved" the fuzz off sweaters and wool suits, but it has gone the way of all worn-out electronic and battery powered devices., so I am back to removing the cursed little balls of fuzz by hand.

My favorite zippered sweater jacket is a victim of the fuzzy curse. Trimming it is a time suck, because I have to go over every inch and carefully snip off the fuzzies.One slip with the scissors , and I'm re-weaving and sewing up a hole. It's easy to be distracted by, oh, say...just about everything else in the house. So I have to be focused about what I do.

Today I decided to approach the task with a new attitude: I put on some quiet music, and began snipping, blocking out everything else around me. There was nothing but the music and the careful snip...snip...snip. It became a meditation I could relax into with intention. Snip..snip...snip...a question pops up which I quickly push a side...Snip...snip...snip...a car goes zooming down the road, it's racing motor fading in the distance...Snip..snip...snip...

Nothing but this task fills my consciousness, until the last fuzzy is gone. Their remains litter the floor and cling to my pant legs, but they are easy to brush off and clean up. I look around for something else that needs a bit of TLC and the removal of fuzzy pills.

blogpost copyright by AmethJera

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