mendfulness: not a typo
a summer practice at the intersection of resourcefulness, creativity, and spirituality
I meant to be a minister. Well, “meant to” as in that’s what I set up myself to do career-wise, getting the Master of Divinity degree and taking all the necessary classes for ordination requirements in not one but TWO different denominations… it has been a journey. While I’m not doing pulpit ministry right now, old habits die hard, so I introduce to you a sort of “Summer Sermon Series.” It’s very common for ministers to work through topical series from the pulpit during the summer months.1 Don’t worry—if this is off-putting to you, this is the first and the last time I will call this a sermon series. Forgive me for scratching an old itch.
In truth, this could hardly be called a sermon series; I’ll actually be actively avoiding getting too preachy with you. Really, what I hope to do is use these summer months2 to take a deeper dive, both pragmatically and spiritually, into a question that has been capturing my attention lately:
What should/could we do with all of this old stuff?
Because let’s face it, most of us have a lot of stuff with which we, one way or another, interact on a daily basis. I’m specifically interested in this question within the context of my own personal journey of reducing my material consumption. I’m on this journey for lots of reasons: financial, ecological, emotional, etc.3 Whatever the reason, being conscious of how much we’re buying new things naturally leads to the observation of what we already have in our possession.
So this summer, I’d like to take you along with me as I practice what I’m calling mendfulness. The word “mendfulness” is a cheeky little mashup of “mend” and “mindfulness.” While this word did pop up spontaneously out of the chaotic recesses of my mind, I learned from a quick Google search that I am not the first to use it. I do, however, think I’m the first to use it in the particular way I’m going to outline for you. Regardless of originality though, I think it’s a cool concept, if I do say so myself.
This concept of mendfulness came about for me when thinking about the growing stack of garments on my work table needing mending. The process of mending our worn-out possessions offers in and of itself a beautiful opportunity for spiritual practice and mindfulness (with an i); there is much fertile ground to explore here in the presence of slowly stitching up something that needs repair. However, I’d like to expand this concept to think about how making use of/extending the life of all sorts of different things we already have around us can be a deeply meaningful spiritual practice.
So far in these very early stages of thinking about this, I’m understanding mendfulness like this:
Mendfulness = Resourcefulness + Creativity + Spirituality
As a means of introduction, let’s progressively flesh out what mendfulness could mean by looking it at each of its components. Then, we’ll be able to get into what it might look like in practice.
The next sections are kinda “definition-y.” Ew, sorry. Feel free to skim or stop reading if you don’t want to feel like you’re in school. If you’re a bit of a nerd like me, read on.
Resourcefulness
Resourcefulness is a word with which I have deep familiarity these days. It seems to appear again and again in every facet of my life and work:
The cost of living crisis in the US demands a certain level of financial resourcefulness from most of us, certainly including my family.
I’m a textile artist who prioritizes sustainability and creative reuse in my work. A lot of what I do on a daily basis involves sourcing secondhand fabrics, making use of the materials I already have around my home, and coming up with new ways to reduce my business’s generated waste.
Ryan and I are backyard gardeners who try whenever possible to capture and use resources that already exist on the land we steward rather than defaulting to importing the things we need to grow healthy plants (water, fertilizer, soil, compost, etc).
As a theologian and spiritual director-in-training, I believe that there is a beautiful spiritual depth to be found in a practice of resourcefulness—more on this to come.
If resourcefulness keeps naturally coming up in so many areas of my life, what would it look like to bring intentional focus to it? What might it entail to ritualize resourcefulness into a practice?
In order to commit to a practice with resourcefulness at its core, it would be helpful to have some kind of working understand of what it means to be resourceful. Oxford Dictionary’s definition is pretty good: “the ability to find quick and clever ways to overcome difficulties.”
While I like the use of the word “clever” here, I’m intrigued by the “quick”—is resourcefulness always so quick? Perhaps in some settings, such as a work environment or even in the management of a home, a large part of the benefit of resourcefulness is in the speed with which it happens: the faster the problem is solved, the better.
In other ways though, I think resourcefulness can often be the slower option. In my work as an artist, for example, it would be much quicker to simply order all of my materials new. However, my practice of resourcefulness demands that I take a bit more time to be creative in sourcing my materials or looking around me to use things I already have (although there are certainly things that I do order new, either out of necessity or sheer convenience).
Good ol’ Merriam-Webster puts it a bit differently: to be resourceful is to be “able to meet situations” or to be “capable of devising ways and means.” In other words, to be able to get ‘er done. Perhaps resourcefulness is one of the qualities at the heart of the expression common among Black Americans: “making a way out of no way.”4
After taking all of that into consideration, I’ve landed on my own imperfect working definition. For the purposes of this summertime journey, resourcefulness is simply “to make do.”
Resourcefulness + Creativity
So now that we have a grasp on resourcefulness, where does creativity come in?
It is my belief that resourcefulness and creativity are intrinsically linked. I am not sure that one exists without the other. When I talk about creativity, I think resourcefulness is always right there in the peripheries.
It is perhaps possible to practice creativity without being resourceful. For example, in recent years, there has been an explosion of ready-made hobby kits for things like embroidery, painting, beer brewing, etc. These kits come with everything you need to complete a certain handmade project. I have even sold versions of these myself (for hand-stitched mini quilts). I do think there can be creativity involved in the making of these projects, even if the planning and gathering of materials is done for you. However, I have to admit that I’m more compelled by creative practices that begin with looking around at what we already have and exploring ways to transform those materials into something new.
When I talk about creativity, I often begin by countering the common belief that some people are creative while others aren’t. At the heart of my work and my personal belief system is the conviction that everyone is intrinsically creative. This doesn’t mean that everyone is necessarily artistic—we have a tendency to conflate these two distinct characteristics. Creativity is much broader in the ways it is expressed in our lives. Creativity could look like:
Preparing a filling meal from ingredients found in a sparse pantry
Finding ways to connect with a child who is having a hard time
Planning out a garden bed or plot for the coming season
Creating an engaging itinerary for a service trip, field trip, or vacation
Teaching someone something
Writing down little (or big) ideas that come to you throughout the day
Making someone laugh
Creativity is a core part of what makes us human; it is perhaps the little spark that makes us so different from robots and AI, which operate on learning and replication. When we observe the building blocks of life all around us and arrange them into new experiences, solutions, or reflections, we are practicing creativity. Creativity is refreshment and renewal. It brings vital energy to every corner of our lives.
I hope it is clear now why I have such a hard time separating resourcefulness and creativity. To me, they are slightly different ways of describing the same thing: looking at what is around us and doing something with it. If resourcefulness is “making do,” then creativity is “making new.”
Resourcefulness + Creativity + Spirituality
There is a common tendency, especially in our Western mindset, to see spirituality as heady/philosophical rather than pragmatic. However, I am of the belief that spirituality is most poignant when it is grounded in the practical realities of day-to-day life. Our spirituality ought to be in touch with our joys and our pains, on an individual level and also on a communal/systemic one.
With this groundedness, spirituality fits right in with resourcefulness and creativity. But what is this spirituality of which I speak?
Spirituality, as I speak of it, is compatible with religiosity but is not exclusive to it. Much of my own spirituality is grounded within the Christian tradition, but many of my other beliefs and practices would be deemed heretical by those who would put stock in such a classification. Actually, a great deal of beliefs that do in fact fall under the umbrella of the Christian tradition, historically and today—especially those inspired by the great mystics—have been and continue to be labeled as heresy. I’m clearly not interested in that kind of regulatory process when it comes to spirituality. I simply cannot fathom a God who could be delineated by the rigidity of dogma.
But here I am preaching to you, when I said I wouldn’t. Let us circle back to the plot—
In his book Pathways to Spirituality: Connection, wholeness, and possibility for therapist and client, Bill O’Hanlon presents the 3 C’s of accessing spirituality: connection, compassion, and contribution. I love a mnemonic device, especially when it feels helpful and not overly reductive. I think this one is great. Let’s break it down.
Spiritual practice leads us to:
Connection: Spirituality helps us feel connected with ourselves (our own physical and emotional landscape), with others (with individuals and groups through our practices and insights), and with the collective (seeing ourselves as part of a bigger picture).
Compassion: Spirituality gives us space to practice and foster compassion and empathy for the lived experiences of others.
Contribution: Spirituality shows us connection and compassion, which then inspires and emboldens us to get involved in our communities and take actions that contribute to the flourishing of our greater world.
Photo by Siarhei Plashchynski on Unsplash
Spirituality does not simply exist in the quiet, meditative moments, although it certainly can show up robustly there. Spiritual practice can come to us in any moment whatsoever if we are to open ourselves to it and prime ourselves for it. This is why it is a practice: most of us tend to ignore or devalue our bodily, emotional, and mystical realities for the sake of productivity, convention, and busyness. When we are able to practice the deep awareness of ourselves and our world (or honestly even the shallow awareness of ourselves and our world), even and especially in the mundane moments of our daily lives, that is when the real magic happens.
Introducing spirituality into the mix with resourcefulness and creativity helps us find meaning and purpose within the practices of making do and making new. What a lovely trifecta we have here.
The Goal
With this intentional summer journey on which I’m embarking, it’s helpful to get clear on what I hope to remember for myself and what I hope to share with you. I want to highlight these three truths from the get-go:
I already have the materials I need, so I don’t need to buy anything new.
This practice is mentally, emotionally, financially, and spiritually valuable, so I don’t need to feel bad about doing it when I could be doing dishes.
Practicing mendfulness adds value to mine and my family’s lives, and it also makes me a better community member.
If all goes to plan (always leaving things up to the mystery of a changed mind), these three points will be the topics of upcoming newsletters. I’d like to dive more deeply into each of them, and I fear that if I did that right now, everyone would stop reading out of sheer boredom at all of my semantics. In fact, if you’re still here reading this right now, bless you for tumbling with me through the weeds.
Disclaimer: Paywalling and New Offerings
Throughout this series, overarching thematic reflections will continue to be available to free newsletter subscribers. I’ll be moving some of the nitty gritty stuff, like walkthroughs of specific mending projects, etc. to my paid offering.
As I discussed in this here previous post, I have started a new paid subscription called the Just Because Club, a multimedia extension of this newsletter. This subscription costs $5/month or $55/year (one month free if you pay annually).
It is my intention to continue sending worthwhile writing and reflections to all subscribers, not just the paid ones. From the bottom of my heart, thank you all for being here!
If you’re interested in joining the Just Because Club, my paid Substack community, you can subscribe below. If you decide this offering isn’t for you, you can unsubscribe and end your payments at any time.
You can also check out my referral benefits to see how you can get free months of premium perks just by sharing my work with your friends.
with lots of love,
I’ve just learned via Google that “series” is both singular and plural. I’m pretty sure I’ve been saying “serieses” my whole life, silly me.
While I’m still technically on a self-enforced maternity leave through August, I’m really loving the process of writing for Substack, so I’m breaking my own rules and allowing it.
I think that’s a separate newsletter piece altogether (Let me know if you want more on that).
check out Monica Coleman’s book by the same name for a Womanist perspective on this expression.