From Thread to Soil: How Tatreez Changed the Way I See the World
Ripe cherries from a coffee tree holding coffee beans ready to be picked, dried, and roasted. Photo credit: My husband.
Before Tatreez: A Life Disconnected from the Land
I’ve been stitching since I was maybe 12 years old but it never was anything but a hobby…until tatreez of course.
From the outside looking in, it’s kind of a wild concept. I grew up learning how to do the cross-stitch and the main embroidery technique that I use when practicing tatreez is the cross-stitch, so why did tatreez have such an impact on my life while the projects I grew up stitching didn’t?
If you’ve been with me for a little while then you probably already know that tatreez has been my personal gateway to Palestine and my ability to come as myself and feel part of the Palestinian collective. This is—without a doubt—what kept me stitching my first thobe for two years straight and, against all odds (and my incredibly risk-averse nature), it’s what pushed me to actually take the leap, quit my full-time job, and bring Lina’s Thobe as a business to life!
HOWEVER…
Tatreez has shaped me in other ways—I’m talking about deepening my appreciation for handmade work (read this), expanding my understanding of resistance and its many nuances (read this), and most of all, how I view and interact with the world.
For much of my life, I moved through the world without deeply considering where things came from. Food appeared in grocery stores, clothing on racks, and nature existed as something to be admired but not necessarily engaged with. Like many people, I was raised in a world of consumption rather than cultivation, where the effort and intention behind the things we rely on were often invisible.
And that, my friend, changed when I began my journey with tatreez.
How Tatreez Opened My Eyes
Tatreez, the traditional Palestinian embroidery passed down through generations, is more than just an art form. It is a visual archive of the land and the people who live in harmony with it.
In the past, Palestinian women embroidered motifs that reflected the crops they cultivated—wheat, grapevines, olive branches, and flowers—onto their dresses. Their stitches recorded what they planted, harvested, and nurtured. Each region had its own patterns, deeply tied to the agricultural identity of the land.
Learning this history transformed my understanding of tatreez. It was no longer just about embroidery; it was about a relationship with nature. I began to see the world differently, realizing how deeply our ancestors wove the natural world into their daily lives.
My mama’s tatreez work-in-progress which features a coffee motif held against a coffee tree.
Sewing and Sowing: Learning to See Nature Differently
The shift in mindset and how I view the world (and myself in it) didn’t happen overnight. There wasn’t even any one project that caused me to reflect on my relationship with the world.
It took years of practice and research to notice what I hadn’t noticed before: The patience of embroidery mirrors the patience of cultivation, and this practice that gives me so much joy and grounds me…it’s nothing without the natural world.
It’s not just that the art of tatreez is quite literally inspired by the Palestinian connection to the land, the practice itself reflects nature. Every stitch, like every seed, requires care, time, and intention.
As I dedicated hours to crafting my thobe, I began to notice how my mindset was shifting. Just as I paid attention to the tiniest details in my embroidery, I started to pay closer attention to the natural world around me.
I became more curious about the origins of things—the process of making, growing, and sustaining. I wanted to understand not just the final product, but the entire journey behind it. The entire journey is what makes tatreez so meaningful for all of us.
And ultimately, this shift in perspective led me to actively seek out experiences that deepened my connection to the land.
Coffee beans during the drying process. Photo credit: My husband.
Finding Land-Based Experiences
This past month while celebrating my grandmother’s 90th birthday in Panama (feliz cumpleanos abuelita!), that curiosity connected me to a Panama I hadn’t yet explored.
It’s one thing to see Panama and enjoy its views, marvel at the mechanics of the Panama Canal, and eat all of the seafood with an ice-cold jugo de maracuya and patacones on the side…
It’s another to visit a coffee farm and learn about the entire process—from cultivating the beans to drying, roasting, and brewing. To experience bird-watching, observing species unique to this very small country, paying attention to their movements, calls, migration patterns, and habitats. To identify four different types of hummingbirds and understand why they look and act in certain ways. To witness different micro-climates in real-time and learn about the intentionality behind the arrangement of specific types of trees to help others thrive.
Understanding the labor, skill, and environmental conditions required to produce something as simple as a cup of coffee…it’s guaranteed to make one appreciate that cup in an entirely new way.
These were experiences I never would have sought out before tatreez shifted my way of seeing the world.
Or rather, these were experiences I wouldn’t have come to with the same kind of curiosity and gratitude.
But now, I find myself drawn to anything that will help me better understand the living world and the delicate balance it requires to thrive.
Fields(?) of coffee trees in the mountains of Boquete, Panama. Photo credit: My husband.
Living in Reciprocity: What Tatreez Continues to Teach Me
Tatreez has taught me that we aren’t meant to simply take from the world—we are meant to live in relationship with it.
Our ancestors understood this, weaving the land into their clothing, growing their own food, and engaging with nature as caretakers rather than just consumers.
As I continue on this journey, I find myself embracing this philosophy in small but meaningful ways—whether by choosing experiences that help me connect with the land, supporting sustainable practices, or simply pausing to notice the beauty in the world around me.
Tatreez is more than a craft; it’s a way of seeing, a way of living. And through its stitches, I continue to learn how to move through the world with greater awareness, gratitude, and care.
Beautiful flowers in the beautiful town of Boquete—a paradise. Photo credit: My husband!