Down to the wire.

This week-end I went to Cheryl’s to make fairy houses (don’t ask). As they are meant to be whimsical little things, I took the usual accoutrements; beads, buttons, wire. I rather got into the project and found myself using much of my bronze colored wire. As I watched the wire roll off the spool I felt a twinge of anxiety. When this was all over, I’d be out of bronze wire. I’d have no more wire. It’d be gone. Done. Empty. Lost.

Okay, it wasn’t that dramatic but there was still that thought: If I use this up, I won’t have it anymore. Right at the heels of that thought though, was another one: “Is this how I want to have this wire? Spooled up and unused? Wire in potentiality?” I was enjoying myself building my house. I liked how it was turning out and I was enjoying the day with Cheryl. Wasn’t that more valuable than a spool of wire? If I felt lost as I used up the wire, didn’t I feel still more content sitting in Cheryl’s yard creating something? What kind of abundance do I want in my life: potential or actual? Do I want more ideas and inspiration? Or do I want to make things?

I’ve always considered myself a generous person. At least, I didn’t think of myself as stingy. But now I’m wondering if I just wasn’t looking in the right place – perhaps I am a miser. A sort of craft dragon, sitting on a pile of paper, ribbons, buttons, and wire, endlessly acquiring and hoarding.

If I am, I no longer wish to be. There’s nothing to gain by contemplating my things. Quite the opposite: there’s loss of experience, the joy of creation and, worse still, holding onto things drags on me, mentally and emotionally to the point where I’m not standing still, I’m falling back.