Quilting teaches me.... Why

A question rather than a virtue. But being able to understand why we do something is sort of like having a virtue. Right?

Whatever. It's got to be a good thing in some mind or manner. So we'll go with that. Which brings me to the question of why? Why do we do some things and not others? Why do I go into the studio alone, sometimes without purpose or reason? Why do I sew at all? And make quilts, of all things, in the Louisiana summer. Why even quilt? Yes, that why.

If you're reading this post, you probably already know many of my answers: 

•  the opportunity to create, to make, something useful is part of who I am. I have to be a maker. I just happen to be a quilter. I've tried other ways of creating but always return to quilting. 
• the soothing comfort and love of a quilt speaks to my soul. If you want to make something for someone, a quilt will do every time. 
• the opportunity to make quilts and other items for my family seem to be endless. I may "complain" about having too many small, "do this for me, please" projects, but the honest truth is I appreciate and love them. Sewing is a way to show that love.
• the colors, textures, even the smells of fabric are tangible. I know them and their familiarity keeps me centered. 
• I want to quilt. 

That last one. That's the real reason I quilt. I just want to. Even when I'm having a bad day and can't seem to turn the machine on, no matter the reason. I still want to quilt. 

I still want to create and make. I still want to see, touch, smell fabric. I want to share my passion with others. I want to feed my soul. I want to quilt. 

Quilting teaches me...

Perseverance

Charity

Simplicity

Patience

Why

Authenticity

Courage

Contentment

Which are you?

Teaching English 1001 for LSU-Alexandria requires that I read many of the essays in our text.  Of course, I have to read the essays assigned for the course, but I do occasionally read other essays simply because I need to absorb written  words.

Tonight I spent a couple of hours reading the assigned text.  While doing so, I wrote notes in the margins analyzing the essays and highlighted passages that I want to discuss with students.  Imagine my surprise when I read Anne Fadiman's essay, "Never Do That to a Book."  It's an interesting essay in which Fadiman divides readers into two distinct groups: courtly lovers, who treat books with overzealous respect, and carnal lovers, who make books their own by writing notes, underlining, etc.

Have you figured me out yet?  I'm a carnal book lover but only when I'm reading one of my own personal books and only when the book is a text book (or my personal Bible) and I need to be able to see my notes and the text together.  It's so helpful to me to have the note RIGHT THERE, where the literary device is.  I love big white space--all that room to take notes is wonderful.


I've said many times that I'm a wolf reader, meaning that I wolf down words, all words, as though my appetite can't be satisfied.  Gobbling them up as though someone else will eat the words before I do.  Others may be able to relish books, tasting every word, reading slowly and methodically, but I could never do that. If I have an hour or a day or even two or three days to read, I want to read as much and as many books as I can wolf down.  After all, there is always another book waiting, another by a favorite author, another part of the series, another author yet undiscovered.  How anyone can read as though time will never end, I can not fathom.


I suspect that heaven carries every manner of books, that we'll be able to read as part of our adoration of God, but I also suspect that Shakespeare, Steinbeck, Wharton, Eliot, and the rest are also still writing.  Thus, while I can read for eternity, how can I ever read it all?

In the end I've discovered that I'm a carnal book lover with a wolfish appetite!  How would you describe your bookish self?