Kumihimo

My brief adventure with Japanese braiding

It’s six o’clock and already dark outside. I’m on the couch, under a blanket, with my phone face-down beside me. I’ve already scrolled through it twice. There’s nothing I want to watch, nothing I need to do, just this stretch of evening ahead, quiet and empty in that particular winter way.

I needed something to fill it. A small project, maybe. Something tactile. Something that would give my hands a purpose and my brain just enough to focus on without demanding too much.

That’s how I ended up with Kumihimo.

I’d never heard of it before I stumbled across it online: a Japanese braiding technique that uses a square or round frame and colorful threads to create cords and bracelets. I liked that it felt a bit niche, something unfamiliar. And that it was cheap! For about 20€, I got a book, a square frame, and an absurd amount of thread that I know I’ll never finish.

It felt like the perfect winter hobby: minimal setup, affordable, a little bit Y2K.

I briefly considered picking crochet back up instead, but I wanted to challenge myself with something new.

I thought it would be meditative. Repetitive in that good way, where your hands know what to do and your mind can wander. The kind of craft you do while half-watching a show or listening to a podcast in the background.

It wasn’t.

When repetition doesn’t become rhythm

Kumihimo is repetitive. There’s no question about that. You move threads in a pattern, over and over, watching the braid grow slowly beneath the frame.

In theory, it’s simple. In practice, I had to concentrate more than I wanted to. I managed to listen to a podcast once while braiding, but it felt like trying to read two books at the same time. Watching TV was completely out of the question.

The movements never became automatic for me. They stayed just effortful enough to demand attention, but not engaging enough to make that attention feel rewarding. I kept waiting for the moment when my hands would take over and my brain could rest. That moment never came.

I also had to let go of my expectations about speed. I’d read that a bracelet could take 20 minutes. Mine took at least 1 hour. The braid grew so slowly that I kept checking underneath, flipping it over to see if I’d made any real progress. That little reveal, the pattern emerging on the underside, was always satisfying. But the satisfaction faded quickly when I realized how much further I still had to go.

Time didn’t fly. It crawled. And I’m someone who picks hobbies specifically to make time soften, to make an evening feel shorter and gentler. Kumihimo did the opposite.

The problem with bookmarks

Part of my frustration, I think, came from the limited range of things you can actually make. A bracelet. A necklace. A bookmark. Maybe a keychain. I knew immediately I’d never wear the jewelry. That left me with bookmarks and keychains, and the thought of making the same thing over and over again drained me before I even started.

I realized something about myself through kumihimo: I need variation. I need different projects, different endings, different purposes. Doing the same small task on repeat, even if it’s technically “creative,” bores me to tears.

When I crochet, every project starts with a specific goal. I’m making bag charms, or a small pouch, or a gift for someone I care about. Finishing it feels like a small victory. I’ve always avoided things like crocheted granny squares for the same reason I struggled with kumihimo: they don’t go anywhere. There’s no point for me.

What I did like

But here’s the thing: I didn’t hate it entirely.

I liked the quiet weight of the threads in my hands. I liked that small flip-over moment, checking the underside of the braid to see the pattern taking shape. I felt genuinely proud when I finished my first piece, a simple bookmark that I ended up giving to my mum. She seemed to like it, or at least she was kind enough to pretend.

I tried kumihimo multiple times because I kept feeling like there was something there for me, even if I couldn’t quite reach it. I wanted to like it more than I actually did.

And in the end, trying it taught me something valuable: I don’t enjoy hobbies where the process matters more than the outcome. I need a project with a clear purpose and a clear ending to feel truly satisfied. I need to be working toward something, not just working.

That’s not a flaw in kumihimo. It’s just a truth about me.

Why I’d still recommend it

Yes, I’d still recommend it!

Even though kumihimo didn’t become a keeper, I’d still recommend trying it, especially if you’re curious and looking for something low-commitment. I got like 4 hours of attention, experimentation, and mild satisfaction from it and it still feels like a good return. A hobby doesn’t need to last months or years to be worth trying. Sometimes trying something, enjoying it briefly, and then letting it go is part of the hobby itself. Not everything needs to stick.

Kumihimo is inexpensive. It’s easy to learn. It’s easy to store away when you’re tired or bored of it, maybe to pick up again another month, or another season, or never again. There’s no pressure. No guilt. Just a small experiment with almost no investment.

For me, kumihimo gave me a few calm hours, a few finished bookmark, and a clearer idea of what I actually look for in a hobby.

That feels like enough.

Resources I used

I didn’t go very deep with kumihimo, sure, but these are the things that worked best for me.

I used a square kumihimo frame. I chose it because I wanted to make mostly bookmarks: the square frame creates flatter cords, while round discs are better for bracelets and necklaces.

I preferred the book over video tutorials. Being able to see the pattern at all times and go at my own pace felt easier than following a video in real time. The book I used was How to Make 50 Fabulous Kumihimo Braids by Beth Kemp.

I tried two thread sizes (1mm-1.5mm) and liked 1.5mm better. The book often suggests 2mm as well. Thicker thread grows faster.

I used videos to explore different patterns beyond the ones in the book:

video 1

video 2

You don’t need much to start: one frame, one pattern, and a couple of threads.

I’ll let kumihimo go for now, but maybe it’ll spark something for you. A small moment, a quiet hour, or just a little curiosity to try something new.

Have you ever tried a hobby for just a little while, and then let it go? I’d love to hear!