Dream Weavers
Making mountains and being more like them
A month ago, for a series of workshops over two days I was nestled at the foot of the embarrassingly beautiful Mourne Mountains. It was just heaven from beginning to end where everyone walked away with something of value, but without a doubt, I was the biggest winner!
Nestled might seem an attempt to be poetic, it’s not, it’s an honest and perfect description of what it felt like to be there, the distinct balance of comfort and shelter, haven and home as it were.
The base of mountains are inherently sheltered spaces, but that’s not to say unchanging. the opposite if anything.
Sheltered spaces are bursting with life whether it’s lush landscapes or thriving communities. To thrive demands care. Simple as. The instructions on care that come from the mountains are a daily lesson but shared in a whisper, like prayers. Quiet, urgent humming.
This is how I imagine we learn from the landscape, wisdom shared like a secret, all the details on how to flourish and grow given generously but almost silently.
Meeting people who live on or near mountains has always inspired me, I get a bit awestruck actually, similar to seeing a magician doing even a basic card trick… so how did you know/do that? These sages have an incredible understanding of nature; an honest realization and deep respect knowing that on the mountain, when weather turns, nature will win.
I can’t help but think that despite there being so many literary and religious examples of going to the mountains to share information, I am more and more convinced it is a place to listen, not preach.
Here at the foot of the Mourne Mountains, nestled - snug-as-a-bug-in a-rug-nestled - is Mourne Textiles. I’ve written about my relationship with the Mourne Textiles family before (after this trip I nominated myself as one of them now!), they are just the best of people who happen to make the most gorgeous fabric, scarves, rugs, and wall-hangings. Their philosophies on work and life are completely enmeshed - quality and craft is the bedrock of it all - exceptional friendships, food, objects, materials, experiences. Each, beautifully crafted in a way that comes only from a place full of care. A place of care-full-ness.
We planned four workshops over the two days; it was intense but brilliant. Looking back and in the moment, the image that is conjured up is the transformation that happens in metal or glasswork when extreme heat is applied - rewards so much greater than the sum of its parts. In these materials even failed attempts look marvelous.
The reason I opened with the local environment is because the people I met over this weekend were themselves so exceptional, I couldn’t help but think this can’t be a coincidence. I credit the soil with molding each of our personas. I am who I am and what I do because of a foggy, boggy, West of Ireland landscape. I bet you too could draw a line from the soil of your past and what it supports to who you are today. Think about it.
Ireland is full of nice people but at this workshop it was different. They were nice but not in a way that forsook what they wanted or needed. Not nice for the sake of being nice or because it was expected. Incidentally, the whole definition of “nice” in Ireland as it relates to people is an entire newsletter on its own and far too much to try and get into here which has to be telling as I’ve just attempted to break down lessons from nature into a few sentences!!
Not everyone in the four groups was local so it couldn’t be something unique to the area… there isn’t something in the water in other words. But there was definitely a common thread between everyone, it couldn’t have been such a positive experience otherwise. So, if it wasn’t Rostrevor specific, what’s the explanation? Quick answer: it doesn’t matter. I like to think that the people who came have a common sensibility; loving the work and fabrics of Mourne Textiles and the community they have nurtured and built and wanting to build their own culture of care around solid Mourne Textile philosophies. Long answer: is that in benefiting from shelter we by default become nurturers. Sheltered situations feed a nurturing nature.
The ability to nurture doesn’t mean there aren’t setbacks in life or sometimes real spine-crushing burdens to be carried but it doesn’t take wealth, success, good looks, or a brilliant mind. It takes time and an open heart. These people had received it and gave it.
Mario and Tara had laid out the workshop space, so we sat and sewed on the same floor that seventy-seven years earlier Mario’s Grandmother - Gerd Hay-Edie - had set up with her first looms. Adjacent to the room we had tea and chatted and looked out on to the Mournes through huge windows. Delight in every form, at every turn.
I thrive on discovering a view or an experience shared by some I’m inspired by, usually centuries or at least decades earlier. The only discernible difference being the passage of time. As a teenager my father brought me with him to Lissadelle House in Sligo as we walked down the path to the main road, he reminded me that this is where W.B. Yeats lived with the Gore-Booth sisters for a period at the end of the nineteenth century. The idea that I was walking on the same path that this icon of literature walked was such a bomb-shell moment. Since then, I’ve always searched for these places. Being in the workroom of such a fearless and formidable designer is a fitting place to find myself and equally explosive.
The classes were darning and Sashiko. Approximately 3 hours each with 10-11 people in each group. We went through the steps made and mistaked but always kept going. The words “test” and ‘sample’ were used a lot… as well as a personal favorite “every fault’s a fashion”. The timing was right because we all got to an end. It might not have been the end but close enough to have figured out what needed to be done if something did need to be corrected. The results were so beautiful. The stitches look great too!
The whole weekend made me rethink what I do in this space - Substack and workshops - and I’m still noodling on that, but it makes me want to return to the monthly Sewcial Experiments for paid subscribers but maybe a mix of formats. I think I might need to be more mountain-like: in the same spot, stitching, every month. The work still happens either way - something will land in your inbox each month whether or not you can make it. And when the timing aligns we’ll work together. Finding a time across continents is hard, so I’ll send paid subscribers a few options and we’ll catch what we can together. It won’t suit every month, but the mountain will be here. Come when you can, and catch some whispers!
Le grá,
Catherine x-x-x-x-x-x