When one thinks of a shaman’s tools, objects like drums and staffs and rattles come to mind. And while I have used and do use such things, one of my favorite shamanic tools is a tiny #8 English sewing needle, bright and viciously sharp.
One of my earliest memories is of my maternal grandmother, a master seamstress, skillfully smocking a yellow lawn dress for my youngest cousin, weaving the thread back and forth through miniscule pleats to create the gathered honeycomb pattern adorning the yoke. She wore a sterling thimble, which I now prize, on her right middle finger, and her stitches were tiny, even and precise from decades of practice. Over the course of the years, I watched her hem wedding gowns, baste and tailor men’s suits, and mend socks with stitches so fine they left no tangible rib to annoy the wearer. Her skills created and adorned the debut and party gowns of many of Winston Salem’s foremost ladies.
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