We Three Things

We Three Things

This week's things:

Thing 1: Schedule friend meet-ups for vacation week. Thing 2: Upload 3 finished objects to Ravelry. Thing 3: Finalize river trip logistics (Check and mend dry bags, buy new sunscreen, find sleeping bag, buy beer).

Last week's things:

Thing 1: Woot! I did organize and pack my vacation knitting. Thing 2: Woot! All the what-not under the bed was sorted, folded, organized, and moth-proofed. Thing 3: Fail! I did no sewing at all on the vintage textile quilt.

Instead of the sewing, I organized all things crafty into one shelf, made blueberry jam with wonderful friend Bec, and spent some lazy time with my man and the cats. It felt just right.

We Three Things

In the midst of de-stemming the blueberries, Bec and I got to talking about how we use our weekly three things, and I thought I'd share with you.

But first, a wee bit of background. I'm a dyed-in-the-wool list person. I love crossing to-dos off my list (preferably in red Sharpie). I crave the state of laser-targeted single-minded focus where Things Are Getting Done, and to-do items quiver in fear of my ruthless efficiency and strategic planning. I prioritize tasks, and take on the urgent and important ones first. Then I make dinner, do dishes, and go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Important stuff like "Spend 30 minutes playing fetch with Vesper," "take a break," or "do something nice for yourself" doesn't often make it onto the to-do list. There's simply too much going on... or at least that's the usual excuse. It's a brilliant recipe for creative burn-out.

For me, We Three Things is the space where I take a minute to find three things each week that will inspire me, help me get past a creative block, or simply keep the chaos down to a dull roar. Sometimes I pick a challenge, sometimes a comfort, and I know there will be weeks where it's all Fail and no Woot.

If you'll pardon a gardening metaphor, it's the equivalent of taking the time to turn a compost pile.

If you just pile up organic material willy-nilly in a compost bin, you generally get a gooey, smelly, anaerobic mess. It takes different types of organic matter (dry, wet, green, brown), seen and unseen helpers (microbes, bugs, and more) and the sweaty, dirty work of digging and mixing and turning to make the magic happen.

I'd much rather have rich, fertile, nourishing existence than a smelly mess.

Thanks for being one of the helpers (seen or unseen) who makes it happen by visiting this space!