Patch and writing by Liz Cohen, a friend and co-conspirator for much of this quilt

Hannah,           

My patch surprised me.  When I first set out to plan it, I got stuck.  I wanted to dig, to uncover some old memory that would define me.  My Supreme Contribution to the World.

For some reason, nothing came to mind.  I was too generic, too privileged, too young, too lazy, too inarticulate, too scared…

It was as if I did a swan dive straight into the same old quagmire in which I had trapped myself countless times before, whenever I had wanted to do something daring, challenging, or new with my life.  I had had plenty of thoughts before, and done lots of things, but I hadn’t done the thing: I hadn’t conquered my demons or dared to devote my life to battles that I wasn’t already sure that I could win.  I’d always stopped myself short.  I felt rather useless, as a result.

So, I set about making a patch that would express how trapped I felt.  It could be a warning, of sorts: Follow your convictions, or you’ll turn out like me!  I figured, heck, at least it’ll be honest.  I was going to include a quote that I’d read off of someone’s dorm room door once: “Sentiment without action is the death of the soul.”  I tried some sketches, even showed them to Hannah to get her feedback.  They were lousy – melodramatic and drab at the same time.  The design didn’t really feel like “me,” more like an excuse for the absence of me.

I decided to shift my focus toward something that I had done.  My mind traveled to a small wooden wreath that hangs on my bedroom door.  Once, during a spontaneous and wonderful conversation with a friend, I made the wreath using old vines from a small stretch of woods through which we were wandering.  I love that little wreath; it is a sweet reminder of things that are most important to me: nature, relationships, and my own agency.  Thought it is a small creation, it brings me an authentic feeling of accomplishment: I created it myself.

I wanted my patch to express the same feeling.  Therefore, using cloth, string, glue, and a few twist-ties, I created a wreath to appear on my patch.  It seemed paradoxical to settle on such a small token from my life, when I had set out to make my patch with such lofty principles in mind.  But it felt sincere.

I was reminded of a passage in a book called Seven Life Lessons of Chaos by John Briggs and F. David Peat, in which the authors discuss the act of creation in a chaotic world.  “Creativity simmers … in the exploration of uncertainty” (23).  I included this quote on my patch in the shape of a spiral, which constantly extends both inwardly and outwardly, just as my search must.

By shying away from many projects because of my unsureness about them or about myself, I have prevented myself from being as creative as I would like to be.  The wreath, together with this statement, is therefore a symbol of hope that I and everyone with a similar desire might have the courage to sacrifice the familiar in order to (re)create our world for the better.

Hannah, thank you for constantly encouraging my own and so many other people’s exploration simply by being so courageous yourself.

All my love,

Liz Cohen