The Hood and Creation

When I was a child, I saw wizards and sorcerers and witches on tv. They always had incredible costumes. Long flowing robes with hoods, big hats, belts and bracers, and sashes covered in runes. Just seeing their attire was awe-inspiring, and always felt like a signal that they had power and knowledge and weren’t afraid to use either.

I always wanted to have cloaks and robes and hoods to wear. With plenty of hidden pockets, of course. And this obsession followed me into adulthood. I had a few amazing people make me various robes or cloaks. But I wanted to make something myself. I enjoy working with my hands, and the idea of making something that had sat with me for so long gave me a rush of excitement. I needed to make something magical.

Unfortunately, I was never taught to make patterns, read patterns, or sew. As such, I had a lot of learning to do if I was going to make my dreams a reality. The following hours of YouTube videos and articles took some of the magic and fantasy out of my vision. There was a lot that went into tailoring, and the possibilities were endless. But I was determined that I would not falter in my quest.

I didn’t think I could make anything as complex as a robe, so I decided to start with a simple hood.

Now, for me, the act of making something has a spiritual aspect. Even a simple thing made with my own two hands is a conscious act of creation. Something I am putting a bit of myself into. It didn’t have to be a big, serious process. But it deserved consideration. Thought about what I was making, and why.

So when I planned out the hood, I thought about the fabric I would use, the thread, the pattern. Should I use natural fabric or something with more give? Cotton or silk thread? Should it hang low over my head or sit higher up? Should it be hemmed with different colors, or have letters or runes or sigils?

I should point out how this was just a trial hood to see if I could even sew. I’d never made so much as a pillowcase. It shouldn’t have been such a huge journey of a decision, but for whatever reason, my brain decided to hyper-focus on details that shouldn’t matter.

I settled on a very simple pattern. Pretty much as simple as I could make and still have it be functional. The fabric would be black, in a mixed fabric. The thread is a slightly higher quality to account for a slight give in the material.

Once I had all the pieces together, I sat at my table and began to lay out my pattern. I took a moment to look over what I had brought together and thought about how it would all become something more. A singular creation from a multitude of parts. And this would begin by cutting out the pattern in the material.

I took up my scissors and began to carefully cut along the lines I had planned. I focused on the act of cutting the fabric, a destructive act that severed the threads of the original piece of material. Every movement undid something that had been previously done. But it was necessary to create something new.

This act of destruction was as crucial a part of the process as any other step. In fact, no other step could happen until something else was undone.

I considered this in a wider sense. How we tend to view creation as a positive and destruction as negative. But every new thing comes from pieces of something else. We cannot create new matter. Only reshape it. Reuse it.

Recycling will become more and more necessary to the continuation of life on earth, and a critical step in recycling is undoing what was before so it can be reshaped into something new.

So even in this small project, this process of undoing was a sacred act of preparation for creation. A moment to appreciate what came before and how it would serve what was yet to come. Part of an endless cycle of creation, existence, destruction, and recreation. This cycle is recognized in many cultures, and in many faiths, and for good reason. It is inevitable.

I finished cutting out the fabric with these thoughts flowing through my head and took up my needle and thread. I would sew this all by hand because the extra attention and thought would give the project added meaning (and I also did not have a sewing machine).

I carefully positioned each stitch as I connected the two halves of what would become the hood, careful not to break away from the line I had laid out so as to keep its shape. Sewing by hand was much harder than I originally thought. I had to focus on every pull of thread as I worked on the hem, shaping the outer edge of the hood. More than a few times the thread became tangled because I tried to rush. A lesson in patience. We can’t force things and expect them to come out perfect. We will just end up with messes we have to sort out because of our hurry.

The last stitches for the front of the hood were exhausting. My hands cramped and shook by the time I was done. The care and focus were draining and left my eyes tired. But after much work the hood was ready.

I opted not to add anything extra to it. Just a simple hood to remind me that all things begin somewhere, and those origins are often not extraordinary. Most beginnings are quiet, clumsy, and cautious. They are gentle and unadorned.

But when I slipped the hood over my head and looked at myself in the mirror, I was beyond happy with what I saw. I had made something that looked good! It was comfortable and it sat just where I wanted it to.

For a first attempt, it was beyond what I had dared hope it would be. Nothing fancy, but mine by my own hands.

I still wear that hood to this day. And every time I do, it reminds me that great things have simple beginnings. That every act of creation carries with it some aspect of ending for something else. And that sewing required more hand strength than I would have ever imagined.

I’m sure I will make better hoods in the future. More exciting ones, with runes and shining fabric hems. With ornate stitching and more adventurous patterns.

But I will always keep that first hood so I never forget the things its creation taught me. About my ability to sew, about life and our place in it, and about the nature of creation.

I’ll cherish that for life.