This has come to light recently in many aspects of my life, but one especially poignant one. I am teaching a beginning quilting class through The Beehive to a group of three ladies who have never spent much time in front of a sewing machine. I have quilted for 10 years and have teaching experience as a former college instructor, so I felt pretty comfortable starting the class. Hint: beware of being too comfortable.
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| Some of my quilts at a show in 2010 |
After just completing the second session last evening, I realized, I am having a lot of trouble communicating. It's not that they are not "getting" it (they are doing beautiful work!). They want to communicate, to feel my intent to share, to pass along my love for this thing that I have done for so long that I don't even notice what I am doing.
It's not that I'm using so much quilting jargon (such as "y-seam" or "dog-ears") that I am speaking another language.
It's that I can't find the word at all.
For me, quilting has been something ultra-personal, my own thing. I learned a little from people, a lot from books, but mainly it's been me in a room by myself for the last 10 years developing my own technique. Now I am opening that world up and trying to teach my approach to others.
I am happy to be open. I am happy to be vulnerable. I am happy to have the wonderful, open, patient ladies in the class. And I am happy to be learning right along with them. They are wonderful companions for the journey.
