Greetings my Dear Ones!

It’s been an exciting week for me. It took an extra two days because of snow but finally I got the keys to my new studio!! It’s in a granola-scented Mill building downtown, with fabulous, northern-facing windows and great natural light that will never get too hot or too blazingly direct in the afternoons. They have the most stunning view of Mt. Wantastiquet. I got in there, looked up, and started singing “The Hills Are Alive…” from the opening scene of The Sound of Music. I am filled with joy and slightly off-key Rogers & Hammerstein songs at this new Beginning. I love the “energy” of the place, the sense of history, and my little fantasy of having been an 1850’s mill girl once-upon-a-Time.

First things first, I have to make this empty room make sense as a “sewing parlor” destined to welcome both the Tattered and Dashing. The room is not very large—about ten feet wide and twenty-nine feet long. Immediately, I realize I must sacrifice about two-thirds of the space for a 4x8 cutting table and a changing room for clients. These are non-negotiable items that I require to do business.

The table I can make, no problem. The changing room will require way more skill so I consult a local carpenter. He is energetic, young, and extremely clever. Instantly, he begins to look for ways to make this tiny space as efficient as possible. He questions my need for a changing room. I tell him that the cutting table and changing room are a MUST. I can even make do without an ironing board, if it comes to that, because I can just put mats or portable sleeve and shirt boards on the cutting table. He scratches his head for a moment. Then he gets a brilliant idea. “Why don’t you just have a curtain in the back corner that you can draw across when people need to change? It could be like a small version of a hospital curtain that comes out from the wall and meets at a corner? Then you could still use that space when no one was there.”

While I admire his generosity and willingness to talk himself out of a few day’s worth of fees, I shake my head. No. My people must have real wood. Real Walls. A Real door.

“But that’s Crazy!” he insists. “What a waste of space! You are going to eat up a third of your floor space with an empty room that contains Nothing. It makes no sense.”

I pause and look at him closely. He is sinewy and athletic, in his early thirties, handsome. His dusty Carhartt trousers slip around on his hips effortlessly as he takes measurements, then leans against the wall. It occurs to me that he may know nothing of Body Shame. When he takes off his clothing and looks in a mirror, a host of gremlins don’t whisper from the shadows about the cellulite around his thighs or the stretch-marks on his bosom. He has all his limbs and senses. He doesn’t need a railing to keep from falling over. His body is a fabulous, reliable steed he never has to consider as it carries this knight around from place to place where he can do battle with slain trees, vanquish Rot, and rescue nutty seamstresses in distress.

“You call it a ‘waste’ of space,” I say, “but I respectfully disagree. It’s not a waste if it makes people feel safe. A changing room needs to be a safe and sacred space dedicated solely to their use.”

“Yeah, I get it, but…” he interrupts, NOT getting it at all.

“Seriously,” I interrupt right back at him. He persists.

“Why can’t you just tell them This Is How It Is here? If you hang really heavy material, no one is going to be able to see a thing. They will be safe. And they won’t know any different. You are sacrificing way too much square footage to make an empty box, in a total space that is already too cramped for what you want to do.” He shakes his head. “This is just nuts.” I can tell he is losing patience with me, yet I truly admire his dedication to Efficiency, even at the expense of civility. For once, I am the customer; I expect to be Right! But he is honest and true, through and through. Privately, we each decide the other is being Unreasonable and Inflexible. I contemplate firing him before he even agrees to do the work.

On some level, I totally agree with him. He’s right; the average customer probably wouldn’t care and would do just fine with a curtain arrangement. On another level, drapery Velvet is probably more expensive than plywood—so his solution is certainly no bargain either.

“In a service industry,” I remind him gently, “it’s not what WE want, it’s what our customers want.”

“I know,” he says brusquely, “I’m not saying you can’t have what you want—I’ll DO whatever you want—I just don’t think what you want makes a whole lot of sense.”

“Yes,” I say, “and I totally agree with you. Your idea is totally practical and brilliant. But it’s not going to work for the people I expect to serve. In the old shop, some of our more fragile customers were missing limbs, some were in wheel chairs, some suffered from vertigo, some were just upset with themselves over weight issues. These people need solid walls to hang on to, private space that is secure. They need to know that when they come in here to change, they can be naked without being vulnerable. No one will see them until they are ready. I want EVERYONE welcome here, no matter how inconvenient it is to me. THEY are the reason I am doing this at all.” (Well, that and so I can have ready excuses to buy ever more fabric, thread, and sewing machines without guilt… but that’s beside the point!)

He nods. Finally, he gets it. Like I said, he is a terribly clever young man.

“Besides,” I tell him, “it’s no use giving me any extra space. THAT will be the wasted space. I will just clutter it up with my own mess. I have a serious case of FSD.”

“What is that?” he asks.

“It’s Flat Surface Disease. It means I am a piler. I pile things on every flat surface. I will have my hands full just trying to keep the cutting table clear for cutting. Think how awful it will be if I have to move loads of junk out of the changing room space if we just go with curtains. If I don’t have a customer every half an hour to keep things clear, like a duck swimming constantly to keep the ice from freezing, there could be an avalanche at some point!” His eyes widen in alarm.

After he goes, I think about how messy I can be when I am working and I make a personal vow to keep the dressing room Completely Clear. Who knows? It might become my personal little temple I escape to as a haven from the rest of the clutter. I can see myself in there, taking a time-out or yoga break, recharging my batteries before I tackle a shoulder job on a man’s suit coat. Having such a space might just save me from the impulse to guzzle whisky by the pint, or eat my weight in cookies, or buy Yet More unnecessary fabric! (Nonsense! There’s no such thing as “Unnecessary Fabric!”)

Yet again, my work has given me a metaphor for my life. I have this one, tiny, cramped life that is bursting with hopes, dreams, ambition and way too much clutter. Like the shop, one third must be devoted to laying things out, creating templates and plans. The busiest third contains all the machinery—five machines in a ten by ten space!—and the energy and focus around Doing, Finishing, Becoming, Transforming, Manifesting.

And… and this part is the real kicker… ONE FULL THIRD needs to “empty” as a safe space for others and myself—equivalent to eight hours of rest in each twenty-four.

I have had to think about that a lot in the last few days. How do I balance these three areas? Where is the “white space” in the calendar that remains open for whatever comes? Where is the time I have to dedicate to family, friends, and nourishing my own spirit? Where is the time dedicated to Rest and Recovery? In today’s work-a-holic environment, how do we begin to achieve the Clarity we need to make lives that are sustainable, energetically, and physically, for ourselves and our service to others and the planet? How do we plead for Space? When should we say NO? I love how paying attention to twin, non-negotiable areas of Creating and Allowing actually serve to compress the space dedicated to the Doing. Like most of us, I struggle often to be a human Being, rather than a human Doing. My rushed and scattered unfocused “Doings” can take over my whole kingdom if I don’t keep them in check.

I’ve changed myself a lot in the last five years, most of it in the last five months. I know that changing takes Courage. It also requires Safe Places and people to help us look at things we don’t want to confront, to make alterations, to be satisfied (or not) with the results. We need strong boundaries. We need walls WITH doors so that helpers can get in to help us and so that we can get out when we are transformed. I know for sure that mess, like water, will take the shape of its container. Clean, clear, empty, Sacred Space must be claimed and defended so that we can get in there, Together, and do what must be done to make a better fit. (The Right Fit!)

Experience brings Clarity. Clarity brings power. Experience has taught me about what my people need when they come to see me and I am the self-appointed guardian of those needs. I also know my own needs. I used to say vague things like “I want to help people. I want to do some good in the world,” and it came to naught because I was too scattered, to unfocused, too vague. Then I would feel terrible because I knew I was not actually helping anyone. I never actually thought about WHO I would help, or HOW. Lovely, Overly Grand sentiments went through my butterfly nets like mist. I achieved nothing.

Today, I Know for whom this Bell toils! (Don’t ask; it is for thee…) I take blue tape and carve up the space on this black, wooden, nineteenth-century floor: Here, we will Plan; Here, we will Work; Here, in this Dedicated Emptiness, we Receive our fellow travelers, just as they are, and allow the wisdom of their guidance. We design and dedicate, construct and consecrate each space to its best use, digging Deeper or piling higher if we must.

Be well my Darlings! Let me know how it is going in your own creative corners! I wish you so much love, Emptiness and Happy Piles for your own Changing Space. Keep up your Good Work!

Yours aye,

Nancy