Magic and thread

I've lately been directed to research the idea of process and slow making time when it comes to craft and in particular hand embroidery (maybe because I'm frustrated by it right now), and I started thinking about the magic of hand stitching:

"She saw it on one burning afternoon sewing with her on the porch a short time after Meme had left for school. She saw it because it was a woman dressed in blue with long hair, with a sort of antiquated look, and with a certain resemblance to Pilar Ternera during the time when she had helped with the chores in the kitchen. Fernanda was present several times and did not see her, in spite of the fact that she was so real, so human, and on one occasion asked of Amaranta the favor of threading a needle. Death did not tell her when she was going to die or whether her hour was assigned before that of Rebeca, but ordered her to begin sewing her own shroud on the next sixth of April. She was authorized to make it as complicated and as fine as she wanted, but just as honestly executed as Rebeca's, and she was told that she would die without pain, fear, or bitterness at dusk on the day that she finished it. Trying to waste the most time possible, Amaranta ordered some rough flax and spun the thread herself. She did it so carefully that the work alone took four years. Then she started sewing... Meme could not help thinking about her when they turned on the lights on the improvised stage and she began the second part of the program. In the middle of the piece someone whispered the news in her ear and the session stopped. When he arrived home, Aureliano Segundo had to push his way through the crowd to see the corpse of the aged virgin, ugly and discoloured, with the black bandage on her hand and wrapped in the magnificent shroud. She was laid out in the parlor beside the box of letters." - One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

also http://www.anahitagallery.com/aharch06.html - a look at traditional embroidery in Central Asia and its relationship to ritual and 'magic'

I just like the idea that a stitch is a marker of time, and that marker falls closer and closer to death. Not that I particularly measure the time between now and my demise, but I would be very satisfied somehow if I were to start making my wedding dress (nope, no plans in case you're wondering, and stop being so nosy), and say, "When this dress is finished, I will be ready to wear it." There's something very magical in that, and I'm not sure what it is. Maybe it's the idea there is no production schedule for an event like that - no RSVPs, no seating arrangements, no choosing between chicken or fish for the dinner, blah blah blah. No Bridezillas, because there's no deadline to stress them out. Just, when I am finished this work, when it is complete, I will step into the next phase. I like that.

I wonder if Jimbob will be freaked out if I start making the veil?