Tying the Knot

I am not a particularly crafty person. While I love the idea of plucking an image or idea from the sky and turning it into something tangible, when I actually start creating, things get messy. My watercolour rendition of a flower was a soggy mess. My stained glass workshop produced a sailboat posing as an amorphous blob – a gift for my partner – is still buried in his sock drawer. My cake decorating workshop (which I actually thought was some of my finer work) looked like something out a horror film, according to my mom.

Every medium I tried just wasn’t working.

I kept reminding myself of the things I could do. I could throw in a pun whenever it was most (or maybe least) needed. I could tell good stories. I could do a headstand. Still, that desire to create something real with my hands continued to call. I wanted to be creative. I wanted to make something. I wanted to be one of those cool craft people.

One day I came across an online post promoting a macramé workshop in my neighbourhood. A bit of rope and some scissors? Totally manageable. I figured the margin for error was lower than my other failed attempts. I had this whimsical vision of me in a long flowy dress, listening to chime music, Palo Santo burning in the background as I swayed to and fro, braiding, knotting and looping my masterpiece. A true vision: Me, a whimsical, romantic, spiritual being, channelling the wisdom of the universe to bring something into being that the world needed. Something that would change my life. A macramé wall hanging.

I showed up to the class in the basement of a church in an unwashed t-shirt and sweatpants. There was no music or epiphanies. Not even a candle burning. But I did meet an amazing group of women, and I learned that macramé is doable. It’s knot after knot after knot.

Yes, there’s a bit of planning. Yes, if you cut too short you really can ruin the whole thing. However, if you change your mind, your vision starts to go awry, or you want to take a break for a few minutes (or an hour, or a month) you can. If you mess up, you just untie the knots – exactly the type of creative calling that was going to work for someone like me.

I was only 20 minutes into my session (and had maybe five knots) when I decided I was going to go big. Forget this beginner’s wall hanging. I was a pro now. I was going to make an arbour for my wedding. A multi-panelled, badass hanging for my partner and I to tie the knot under. Starting our marriage off under a something I had created that had a little pun woven into it? It was too perfect.

In the end, it took more planning and time than expected, but I was committed and stubborn so stopping midway wasn’t an option. It didn’t have the cleanest lines or the most perfect cuts but it was beautiful. And I made it.

Working with your hands, especially on a repetitive activity like macramé really does have a meditative effect. It was so nice to take a break from the screen every evening and add to it, bit by bit.

The best part of this macramé journey was finding the right tree branch to hang the piece on – and making my final cuts. With a macramé piece, you typically finish it off by cutting each piece of rope and fraying the edges to get the exact look you are after. Those are some satisfying snips.

Our wedding day was imperfectly perfect. My masterpiece was a fitting backdrop. Now it hangs in our kitchen, a massive play toy for the cat and one of our toddler’s favourite strings to pull at during dinner.

This isn’t the sort of story that ends with me becoming a professional macramé artist. But I did learn the beauty and peace that comes from the simple actions of knotting, looping and trimming – an exercise in creating perfectly imperfect pieces. And that’s enough to bring me a little closer to my imagined magical, artistic self.