Making an X

It feels hard to sit still. I want to blame all the screens which stare me in the face. But I’ve never been particularly good at sitting down. I’ve never been good at taking a breath without thinking about the next one. At 30, I was working a stressful job and I couldn’t see the next steps my life would take. I had been good, up until that point, at finding the next step. I just kept moving, no matter if the wind was at my back or in my face. But, then, the clear picture of the future fell apart. I couldn’t determine what I was supposed to be doing. Thirty years old looked different than I expected. On a whim, I picked up cross stitching. For those who are curious—it is the easiest craft in the world. Everyone should give it a try. It is, essentially, paint-by-numbers with thread. You follow a pattern. You make a series of x’s and, at some point, all those x’s make a picture. It felt mindless.

The clear picture of the future fell apart. I couldn’t determine what I was supposed to be doing.

I’d realize later the reason I loved it is because cross stitch wasn’t mindless. It was one of the most meditative things I’d ever done. There’s no room for the blaring horn of my own anxiety when I’m busy making x’s on a piece of fabric. The only thing I have room for in my head is acknowledging the movement of my own hand, the rhythm of my breath, the x I am sewing at that precise moment. I’m a fan of fiber crafts now. I knit. I sew. I’ve discovered a whole world of stress-relieving, absolutely absorbing activities. And now, when I’m anxious, I don’t have to wonder if I’m the kind of person who could meditate. I just have to take up my needle and start moving my hand to feel all my thoughts pushed to the side, to focus on the present moment.