This week marked a month of deactivating my social media (read: instagram. I haven't had facebook for years), and although I debated turning my accounts back on to share my latest podcast, I realized that I'm not interested in that kind of sharing. I want it to be organic, intimate, and authentic. I'd like my sharing to emerge from real life interactions, one on one conversations, and natural communication. We all know social media is a soul-less venture now-a-days. So I left it off, and noticed in moments where I might be reciprocating likes, and comments out of a feeling of social obligation, I now had enough mental space to think about things I've been meaning to do.
As naturally follows, I finally checked off something that's been on my creative to do list for a while: make friends and family friendship bracelets. Brandon and I took an adventure to Michaels, and were probably the loudest people in there as I figured out color schemes for my handmade wrist adornments. It's funny because these little trips that would be so simple to the average person always become a random adventure with this guy around. Between dancing in aisles, and making jokes about everything that sparked his Gemini sensibilities, I was cracking up the whole time. So glad to have him in my life!
When I was younger I would make bracelets all the time. Although almost a decade had passed since I'd attempted to make one, the complicated patterns and techniques were still familiar to me. However, as I knotted the threads this time I paid very close attention to the patterns. First memorizing the designs so I didn't have to reference the pattern, and then completely improvising my own.
Each bracelet was an opportunity to try something new. Swap a color here, add a little trinket there, switch up the directions of knots.
What I noticed was that my process was recursive.
You know how they say practice makes perfect? Well, it seems like if you repeat something enough times, and push yourself to experiment you'll stumble upon more and more beauty.
In repetition you notice details. You ask yourself what would happen if I did something different? Is it our drive towards novelty, and the fact that we can't stand being bored? Or is it just a curiosity to fuck up something that works just in case something better exists? For me it's a bit of both.