Super Goog Stuff

Mind States

Making Mistakes - Unweaving or Moving on Creatively

by Paula Scardamalia

When was the last time you made a mistake? This morning? Yesterday? Last month? More importantly, when was the last time you admitted, to yourself or others, that you made a mistake?

In our culture, perfection has become the standard for everything we do.

The conditioning begins in our childhood. Whether at school, at home, or at our place of worship, we quickly learn there is a right way and a wrong way to do something, and doing it the wrong way usually results in embarrassment, loss and even isolation. Thus, childhood enthusiasm to invent and investigate turns into the frozen momentum of the fear of failure.

Almost as challenging as not making mistakes, is admitting them. Yet how much better would we be as partners, parents, friends, employees, and employers if we could simply say, "I'm sorry. I made a mistake." Instead, we work hard to maintain the faÁade of our perfection. CEO's of corporations like Enron, and, too often, our political leaders are examples of this deception. To imagine that any human being even approaches perfection is hubris≠the classical sin of excessive pride or defiance toward the gods≠which inevitably leads to downfall.

A perfect example of this is the Greek myth about Arachne, who becomes an accomplished weaver under the tutelage of the patron goddess of weaving, Athena. Arachne then challenges Athena to a weaving competition. Reluctantly agreeing, Athena weaves a tapestry illustrating mortals who challenged the gods and were turned into other shapes. Ignoring the warning, Arachne's weaving depicts scenes of the gods, like Zeus and Apollo, involved in less than honorable (imperfect) amorous conquests, deceiving goddesses and mortal women alike. Outraged, Athena destroys the insulting weaving, and Arachne hangs herself. In an act of mercy, Athena changes the noose into a web and Arachne into a spider. So, Arachne remains a weaver but she no longer poses a threat to Athena's eminence and the gods' divine perfection.

Other cultures also view perfection as the realm of the gods. The Navaho, for instance, weave into each rug a thread that appears to be a mistake. Other Native American tribes create a "flaw" in their pottery. The weaver and potter consider this "mistake" to be a path for Spirit to enter.

A path for Spirit to enter

How much more healing and helpful a way to look at our all-too-human tendency to err. If we have the wisdom and compassion to accept our mistakes and failures as a path for Spirit to enter then will we risk more in our work and in our lives? Will we stop worrying about perfection and focus instead on the joy and adventure of life?

While studying for my MFA with California fiber artist, Ferne Jacobs, I wove complicated two-layered representational pieces on my loom in New York, then cut them from the loom and mailed them to her in California for her critique. After several months, we had a chance to work together at the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts in Deer Isle, Maine, where she was teaching a three-week summer course. I was her studio assistant. While helping her with the class, I also warped a loom and worked on a weaving of a rooted tower.

I quickly discovered that having her nearby while I wove changed the dynamic of my creative process. I wove with much more uncertainty than when alone in my studio. I frequently stopped to have her check and critique my work. I became more concerned about making mistakes.

By the end of the three weeks, when it was time to pack up and head home, my weaving reflected my worried state of mind. I had woven the first of my tower pieces, "Transformation I," but something about the piece felt off. Ferne spotted the problem right away. Proportionally, the figure bursting from the top of the tower was too small and contained. Ironically, this is exactly what happens to our souls when we constantly strive for perfection.

What to do? This was my largest piece yet, but it was not the best, even with Ferne's constant availability. Her suggestion? Cut the warp from the loom, take it home, put it back on my loom, unweave the top six inches and reweave it.

No small task! I had 200 ends of warp to release, tie off and then rethread and retie onto my loom at home. And I had to unweave six inches of those two layers before I could correct my mistake. I faced a time-consuming process.

But either I did that and created something that truly expressed my abilities and my vision, or left it as it was and finished it off knowing the weaving was less than it could be.

Amazed at my insanity, I chose to unweave. Months later, when I finally finished the weaving, and cut it from my loom, I knew the time and effort were worth it. Now the weaving displayed the power, energy, and excitement I had intended. In fact, that weaving is my signature piece. Through the years it continues to reveal new understandings of my life.

Courageously acknowledging mistakes and being willing to do the work necessary to unweave them brings unexpected rewards.

Some mistakes, however, cannot be unwoven. Unfortunately, even though we may gather the courage to admit a mistake, sometimes it must become part of the fabric of our lives. Then the ability to forgive ourselves is strongly tested. Words spoken, actions taken in a moment can alter our life weaving. And though we often wish for the opportunity to unweave those words or actions, often we can only move forward, keep weaving. We must fight our way through all the "if onlys," to a place where we stand in the present moment and answer "What next?"

If we develop new skills, create new attitudes, and pick up new threads of courage and understanding, then we can integrate those mistakes into the weaving. Though the threads of mistakes remain part of the fabric of our life, they serve as lesson and warning for future choices. Will we pick up threads of love, respect, care, and wisdom to weave into our life, creating beauty once again? Can we choose more wisely in the future? Aspects of the pattern of the weaving may change but the fabric will endure.

Mistakes are part of being a weaver and being human. Mistakes are an opportunity for learning and growth and compassion. We need to give ourselves permission to be less than perfect-to make mistakes, and we need to give others, our friends, our husbands, our children-especially our children-that same permission. Acknowledging our personal humanity and imperfections and forgiving ourselves for them is the best way to learn how to forgive the mistakes and failures of others.

Our lives are not about being perfect. Our lives are about being our best. And that "best" changes from day to day, with each new experience and understanding.

Our goal, then, with each new opportunity, each new choice, each new thread we weave into our lives, is to be and do the best we are capable of. And if we fail or fall short, as we inevitably and humanly will, then we must accept and acknowledge that failure with loving compassion for our humanity, always remembering:

Paula Chaffee Scardamalia is the author of Weaving a Woman's Life: Spiritual Lessons from the Loom. Through her business, Nettles and Green Threads, she sells her colorful and luxurious handwoven art across the country. She teaches dreamwork, creativity, and women's spirituality workshops. To order her book, see www.weavingthedream.com or Amazon.com, also see her blog at www.weavingthedream.com/blog.