Starting Slow
The first days of January have been quiet here on the farm. The sheep move slowly (unless I have their grain) conserving their energy, some growing lambs. I’ve just started to dust out the dye pots and think about bringing some color to the monochromatic landscape outside my window. I’m moving with that same slowness and this year I have vowed to embrace it.
We live in a busy world, rush, rush, rush. Accolades go those who work 70 hour weeks, never take their vacation and make their first million before they are 25. I fall into none of those categories but it’s hard to shed the weight of expectation. I often think and say that what I do isn’t really a sustainable business model. But what if I created a new model?
A month or two ago during a meeting with my longtime accountability partner, she said something that made me think about it in a whole different way. I needed a change of perspective. Even though I may not be cranking out dyed yarn and handspun at corporate speed, I love what I do. Slow processing of fiber, coaxing color from plants, knowing my sheep, these things feed my soul. Perhaps what I have is a sustainable life model instead.
Don’t get me wrong. The mortage and bills still have to be paid. I work a second job so I don’t have to panic when we need to fill the barn with hay or we have a surprise vet bill.
I am changing my thinking though. I won’t be apologizing if I didn’t get the web shop updated when I said or if I didn’t get the spinning batts made for the live sale. I’m done spoiling the quiet moments of stirring a pot of homegrown madder (a pot that must be watched carefully) with the guilt of another fifty things I need to get done. I will strive to be present as I slowly comb each lock of a lamb fleece, thinking about how he grew this gorgeousness over a year of his life, how I held him moments after he was born.
As I come into this new year I’m resisting the temptation to rush in with grand plans, long lists, and the weight of high expectations. I’m learning that the most meaningful beginnings don’t come from hurrying. They come from slowing down, from listening to the rhythm of the season and letting creativity unfold in its own time.
What’s on Your Loom?
As I write this, I’m preparing to weave my first project of the year—something simple, something slow. I intend to let my hands lead the way without worrying about how it will turn out, maybe try something new.
What about you? What’s on your loom, in your hands, or on your mind? I’d love to hear what you’re working on and how you’re starting the year with intention. Share your story in the comments below, and let’s begin this new season together—slowly.
