The Inhale & Exhale Of Stitching by Sheila Murray

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Inhale exhale inhale exhale

I can’t believe the road rage of that driver this morning

Inhale exhale inhale exhale

Ug. I should have worn my other pants, these ones aren’t as comfy

Inhale exhale inhale exhale

Wow my shoulders feel tight today

Inhale exhale inhale exhale

Oooh I love cat cows, yes!

Inhale exhale inhale exhale

This song is groovy, I love flowing to the beat

Inhale exhale inhale exhale

Letting goooo of what doesn’t serve me, welcoming in the good energy

Inhale exhale inhale exhale

Feelin’ strong, feelin’ calm

This is why I love yoga. Movement, music, & meditation gently tug my awareness from my busy brain to my intuitive body. When I step onto the rubber of my mat, I step into a place of peace and inner power.

Everyone has their own way of releasing stress and fueling motivation and I find my way through intentional movement. Yoga is not the only way, though. I run, I climb, I strength-train, and I love a good mom walk (for me this means taking a leisurely walk while chatting with a friend and spilling the tea). Oh, and I needlepoint 😉.

I started climbing around 2017 and love the challenge of it! Sending a bouldering “problem” takes just as much mental strength (or more!) as it does physical strength.

As the newest addition to my repertoire, needlepoint has changed the field of intentional movement practice for me. As an athletic human, I’ve often relied on my body to charge forward and perform when I say so. I’m getting better at noticing when it’s time to take a pause, but it’s not easy. For a while, feeling the burn and getting my sweat on was the only way to manage stress and feel just generally good. That was risky business - should the capacity to move dwindle… so would I. This is what happened when I dislocated my peroneal tendon in March of 2017.

One morning before work I went to an indoor climbing gym with a friend. We were warming up on some easy bouldering routes and it was my turn to climb. Halfway up the wall I pulled up my foot to the next hold and pushed down on the hold with my toes, and POP. Confused but not in much pain, I climbed down and realized that the tendon that once sat snug against the back of my ankle bone had shifted forward and was loose… yikes.

What followed were months of differing doctor opinions on what to do and, ultimately, surgery. I got through the first few weeks on the grit and unwavering optimism that I inherited from my mother, but there were moments where there seemed to be no end in sight. My new normal was crutching an extra 3 pounds of weight on my left leg during the day and “sleeping” on my back with my foot elevated by two pillows at night. I struggled to feel rested, mindful, and happy during this time. The weight on my leg seemed to also weigh on my heart.

Finally I got the surgery I needed, which meant crutches and more time in a boot. During this time I gained so much appreciation for those unable to move their bodies in the way that they want to. I knew that my situation was temporary and, still, that wasn’t always enough to keep me sane & positive. My active commute, fitness routine, and sense of independence had radically changed and, due to that, I struggled with my sense of self.

(Above: I went to Nashville with my parents & I crutched and hobbled all around! One funny perk of the long road to recovery? One of my BFFs was also in a boot at the same time!)

Ah, if only I’d been a needlepointer.

I got through that time thanks to my supportive family, fitness friends that reminded me that upper body strengthening was totally possible (and tough!), and (not proudly) the occasional glass of red wine to soothe me into sleep. I decided then that I would break my dependence with exercise as a survival necessity and dig deeper into creative & mindful outlets.

Intentional movement is a way to drop into mindfulness and decrease stress. That’s probably not new for anyone to hear. What is interesting, and perhaps novel, is that simply moving is not enough — If you go on a run and stress about your upcoming presentation, you may be doing yourself a disservice. Research has shown that linking mindfulness to movement — bringing awareness to your surroundings and your purpose — can improve self-management and overall well being ❤.

As I reflect on a handful of vivid memories walking off a stressful day in Boston, running the hills of New Hampshire during an epic Reach The Beach challenge, and sipping lattes as I caught up with friends, I realize that it wasn’t necessarily the movement that guided me into a state of meditation and experience, but rather my sensory awareness and capacity to be present. Studies done on university students have shown more of the same — when students were more active and more mindful in their activities, they exhibited lower levels of stress & anxiety. The good news is that, the type of activity doesn’t matter! You could be a walker, spinner, boxer, or the gal who likes to hit the elliptical for 30 minutes. The key is that you bring your attention to your senses, your breath, or whatever makes you feel mindful. For me, needlepoint became a beautiful supplement to my movement-filled life, as it encouraged me to slow down and become more intentional about how I moved through the world.

In September of that year I visited my dear friend, Brooke, because I needed to mentally unpack and unwind. I likely don’t need to tell you that Brooke happens to be a champion when it comes to creative outlets and actively putting oneself into art. I didn’t realize that she had the literal and metaphorical tools I needed. She sent me home with a few needlepoint projects to get started on and … I was hooked.

A gaggle of girls celebrating Galentine’s Day, stitching away together

Not only was needlepoint a craft that I could do on demand, Brooke was also hosting events in various Boston locations and in her own home, so I could also connect with a like-minded community. Who was there? Few people that like to sit still! Many of us were hyperactive by nature and were looking to nurture our more mindful, artistic side. I loved seeing what kind of canvases and thread pairings spoke to others, as it seemed to emulate a unique personality and taste; akin to the fitness world - where people may try a few different things but ultimately are lead by the red thread in their lifestyle (high impact, low impact, strength-building, cardiovascular endurance, etc).

As it turned out, my experience recovering from an injury became my opportunity to reconnect to myself and the abundance of mediums available to find peace & power. I wonder if I would have latched on to needlepoint with the same enthusiasm had I not experienced the itch to stay active while recovering from injury…

Since I started stitching, panic doesn’t rise in my throat when I need to slow down, sit down, or be inside for a while. At the moment, I am writing from quarantine in Denver, Colorado. I just moved here a few weeks ago and I have spent just about every day indoors. The sun is shining, the parks are calling, but I am committed to staying home. My partner and I are stitching more than ever right now — during morning coffee, after dinner, and sometimes during moments that we need a breath in between. Most days I carve out time to move & yoga flow but needlepointing enables me to be microactive, to create, and feels like a big exhale at the day’s end.

After all, threading a canvas is not so different from flowing a yoga mat. Each session feels unique, builds upon the last, and you may lose yourself in the flow…