The Burden Stone

Has anyone else read The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese?

In the story there is mention of a “burden stone.” I have tried googling this term with very little success. The story takes place in the southern part of India, Kerala. Perhaps burden stones are a local concept? In the story, the stones are both literally a resting place as well as a symbol for letting go of the things that weigh you down. At approximately shoulder height, three stones are set, two vertical, with a horizontal table-like stone spanning between. The idea is that if you were carrying something heavy (likely on your head or shoulders) you could rest and set your burden down on these stones. 

This idea of pausing, resting, appeals to me. Maybe because adulting is tiring. There is still farther to go. There are still things that need to be carried. But for now, we can take a moment to relax, reflect, then carry on. 

Being an artist and a caregiver, I am often in need of a burden stone. 

Yes, of course I am trying to learn to set healthy boundaries. Yes, I need a nap. But not being able to work and create feels worse than being tired. The place where I can find restful work (is that a thing?) has been with embroidery. The planning is the creative part, the stitching is the meditative part. I don’t know why I need it, but I really seem to need these repetitive tasks like stitching to feel calm and purposeful. Somehow this works for me as a bridge. It is not wildly expressive in the moments of stitching. It is not dancing, gestural brushstrokes, it’s small, micro progression. 

In the decade before parenthood, I worked as a calligrapher. Most of the work was for weddings and was a similar small, micro progress. Writing name cards or addressing envelopes can be tedious work. I loved the way there seemed to be a magic between the nib of the pen, the tooth of the paper, and the viscosity of the ink. Temperature could affect the drying time. Rough paper could bleed. With careful thinking, the output can be so beautiful. 

Embroidery shares a lot of those same micro elements. The thickness of the thread, the needles’ sharpness. The space between the warp and weft of your cloth. Ten thousand tiny stabs resulting in a floral bouquet, a pithy slogan, or a christmas stocking.  

So, it seems I have found a “burden stone” of my own. A place to set my thoughts down. A place to rest the feelings of guilt, or mourning, or longing for an art life that has changed. Maybe it isn’t the broad, big artworks I planned on making in my 20s, but it is the act of making something. At this moment in time, this marker in my parenthood, it is enough. It gives me all the feelings of making. It is portable and durable and requires very little in the way of materials or tools. 

With careful thinking, the output can be so beautiful.