Small stitches take time
but they eventually add up to the big things that matter
When my son was a kindergartener, two pieces of what might now be called “content” resonated deeply enough with me that they changed the trajectory of my life.
One was an article by foreign policy expert Anne Marie Slaughter, “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All,” written about why she left her job in the Obama administration’s State Department, a position she’d worked her whole life to achieve. The second was a short video by author Gretchen Rubin, “The Days Are Long, but the Years Are Short.” You don’t need to click through to understand what each author wants to share: the titles say it all. They say that the system isn’t here to support us, and that the small, slow moments of life—the exhausting, boring, and often mundane moments—are the ones that make life matter.
Spurred in large part by feelings exposed by these two pieces of content, I quit my “big” job and took on the role of home parent and created a very small business that could give me the flexibility to work around being a home parent. We couldn’t have known, back then, when I shifted to flexible work, what was coming, but our family structure helped us weather the impacts of a global pandemic. We were lucky in the way that white families are often “lucky.” Dominant cultural norms and societal structures rewarded our decisions in a way that Black and Brown families, or families with essential workers, don’t benefit. Remote work was possible, one of us had time and flexibility to manage school closures and mental health impacts, and we have good, employer-provided health insurance and access to unbiased health care.
With this intentional life shift, way back in 2013, I was going small, and, by going small, it put me at odds with everything our culture tells us is important. For a long, long time, I worried I was missing out. I felt left behind and sometimes dreamed of “going back.” But, today, I’m seeing a different thread in this tapestry of a story. All the prevailing cultural messages of earning more, climbing the ladder, having the “big win,” or getting the “big job,” they’re wrong for me. The big things aren’t where I find the deepest joy. The smallest things are.
In so many ways, I am still learning this truth.
A number of years ago, I applied to sell my yarn at a high-demand, juried show—I was still striving for that larger, splashing success, just in my new field. I didn’t realize that a juried review of my work, at a more exclusive venue, in a ticketed show, was counter to all the things that had actually brought me joy.
I find joy with quiet people. I enjoy knitting and sewing and making things with my hands not as a different way to experience consumption (buy all the yarn!) or to signal “superior” values (it’s handmade! it’s eco-friendly!). I enjoy making things with my hands because it slows me down, it helps me feel the truth that what I have is enough.
I find joy in making room at the table so that everyone has a seat. I feel whole when, as a white woman in a mixed family, I center equity and inclusion. Because when Black and Brown and trans women have softness and joy and enough, we all have softness and joy and enough.
Today, I want to share some of the ways I’ve been holding onto this feeling of small, especially when the waves of cultural pressure start rolling.
✨ I go outside. (Please enjoy some pictures of the exciting quiet moments happening in my world right now at the top and bottom of today’s essay!)
✨ I read journalism that helps me understand a full, more truthful picture of how dominant culture impacts us. My absolute favorite writers are here on Substack, and here are some of their most popular pieces:
✨ I knit. I don’t read about knitting, or cruise Ravelry, or watch a podcast, or look at knitting Instagram. I put down all my devices and I simply knit.
Today, I want to encourage you to embrace the small things that make you happy. Despite how it might feel at first, going small is seismic thing. It can be meaningful and earth-shaking, and paradigm-changing. If enough of us go small, nourish ourselves, build community, rest when we’re tired, see where we have enough, and build networks of mutual aid, we’re gonna be okay.
It’s a wrap on my studio sale
Y’all truly! Thank you for showing up for my studio sale. Last Sunday, I loaded 252 skeins of yarn into my shop and there are currently none left. My Community Fund has had new replenishments, so I’ll be able to send out gift cards the next time I update the shop. I’m so grateful, and I hope your yarn shopping has been absolutely joyful. I’ll be packing and shipping everything on Tuesday.
I’m also 15% of the way toward my goal with paid subscriptions for this newsletter, and I’m feeling just so nourished myself. Thank you.
If you have extra yarn budget and want to add some to the community we’re building, you can do so here:
A well-wish
This Sunday, I hope you feel, deep in your bones, that you are enough.
So much of the time, these feelings depend so much on our outer circumstances. Changing our outer circumstances takes work. Changing our inner reactions and—even when outer circumstances aren’t the best—this takes even more work.
Today, no matter what your outer circumstances are, I hope you find a moment (and more) where you feel enough, just as you are.
I find myself looking forward to the arrival of Nourishing Things in my inbox every Sunday.
thank you as always. I enjoy your writing and honesty and appreciate your writing style as well as your links. I also appreciate you valuing all subscribers, not just the paying ones. it is the little things that are telling.