Project 5: How a ring making class revealed my inner growth
Embracing mistakes as opportunities to engage in radical acts of healing
I recently attended a workshop hosted by my local She Shed where I learned to turn a spoon into a small ring. As it turns out, however, the class became a sort of self-revelation, showing me the progress I’ve made in my journey of healing and growth.
When I was braining storming my list of unfinished projects at the start of the year, I knew I wanted to go beyond the utilitarian act of working to complete half-finished projects and check them off a list. I also wanted to embrace opportunities to explore and connect within community. I also wrote on my list that I wanted to take an art class, although exactly what I hadn’t decided. I joined my local She Shed last fall. Inspired by Men’s Sheds, She Sheds provide women with spaces to build connection, while learning woodworking skills. Many, including the Shed I belong to, provide members with opportunities to take classes and workshops. While often these are focused on woodworking and beginner carpentry skills, there are also more artisanal type classes offered through the Shed I am part of.
Why choosing the project wasn’t the point
I’ve attended a few other classes at the Shed this year, including an acrylic pour class and a Valentine’s Day painting social. So technically I had already checked “attend an art class” off my list, so I suppose maybe this could be categorized as “trying new things”. Or maybe, “celebrate that I didn’t cry when I learned too late that I measured wrong and the ring I made was way too big to fit on any of my fingers, including the middle finger on my right hand which is very wide at the middle because I’ve broken that knuckle twice.” Or, you know, maybe I don’t need to try and label everything.
I’m not going to walk you through every step of the ring making class, so here are the Cole’s Notes: The class was led by another member of the Shed, who volunteered her time to show seven other women how to turn small spoons into rings. She let us use her tools to do this and supplied the spoons. To start, we each selected a spoon. After careful consideration, I chose a silver spoon with a rose at the end of its handle. Then, the instructor went over the steps to turn spoon into ring, showing us how each of the tools work, and going over how to measure the finger we wanted the ring to go on, and then how to figure out the measurement to mark the spoon before cutting it with a handsaw.
Messing up, without the excuses
It was in the measuring that my mistake was made. Listen, there are a lot of “things” I could blame for why my measurement was way off. I think the instructor, when she noticed, felt some responsibility (because she mentioned more than once she wished she’d noticed sooner). So, I could just blame the instructor and the story about my ring could be that it’s too big because the instructor wasn’t paying attention. Except, here’s the thing; I don’t think blame is helpful. Maybe, in select instances blame is necessary. At the end of the day, however, I’m the one who measured incorrectly (several times, thanks for asking). And so, the ring that I was originally intending to wear on my pointer finger will now become a way to close the ends of the summer scarves and shawls I sometimes like to wear in the evenings, when the weather begins to cool off.
Perfectionism vs. ownership
If you’ve been waiting for the moment that I experienced self-revelation of my own growth, it was when I began to realize the ring was much too big; that it wouldn’t turn out how I’d first envisioned it. The before me, the perfectionist with the belief that if what I created did not turn out in a just-so exact and perfect way, would have reacted much differently. I would have been quite fine blaming the instructor, the other women for chatting and distracting me, the fact that I am quite shit at math or any number of other excuses (I was going to say things, but let’s just call it what it is).
Instead, when I realized the ring was much too big, and when the instructor began to place some of the blame herself for not noticing sooner, I chose differently. Because although the circumference of the ring was much too big for my fingers, it was (is) still beautiful. It’s a memory ... a chapter marked in time, documenting the moment the universe reflected my own growth back at me.