That’s what I’m trying to share.
Not how to knit. But why.
And the value of quiet creativity and discovery.
The vison for this blog and community has been growing in me for quite some time. My love of knitting and recent adventures in self-discovery and recovery have inspired me to share these things: the tangible skills need to knit without fear or expectation; the safety to let new things happen; the surprises inherent in creativity; enjoyment of process as much as outcome; connection to self and others born from this practice; and finding a place that is slow and quiet in a demanding, outcome-driven world. In short, I want to help others find the peace that has come to me as I (re)discover my love of knitting and the value of incorporating it into my daily life.
It’s been a rough, tough and heart-wrenching few years, fueled by fear, loss and doubt. I lost myself. My plans were torn from my shaking hands. The fabric of myself as I knew it caught an unexpected snag and unraveled. I tried ignoring the snag at first. When it became too unsightly to miss, I tried to hold it together; tried to preserve what was there. I made a few fruitless attempts to patch it as the snag continued to pull and fray. I found myself grasping at the yarn, unfurling uncontrollably faster and faster, burning and cutting my fingers. I tried to cut it off at the snag. Tried to re-knit from the bits that remained. Try as I might, the snag kept spreading, sometime quickly, sometimes slowly, but it never stopped. All I wanted was for my life to keep going as I had planned. I was shattered, trying to keep it together. Trying to get back what was lost and preserve what was, as it was. I’d thought had started to mend, but it would unravel more before I knew it. At the end, I was left with a tangled heap.
In this great unravelling, I had forgotten to knit, something that I’ve had an interest in and aptitude for since before I can remember. Was I not knitting because I was unwell? Or was I unwell because I was ‘too busy’ for something that sparks such calm joy in me? All I know now is that the world is a more peaceful place when I knit often.
This is where our journey starts. In an unrecognizable, overwhelming knot.
There was, however, beauty to be salvaged in this tangled heap. The fabric of my being is woven from generations of love, learning and growth too precious to be squandered. People who lived and loved to the best of their finite ability all laid strands into my fibers. While my fabric, my whole being, seemed undone, I remain but a stitch in the fabric of forever. And one of my biggest drivers was the belief, however faint at times, that I was entrusted to help weave the fabric of my children's’ lives. It is a privilege and responsibility that I honor and treasure. An experience too magical to miss.
In this vulnerable, structureless state, I struggled to see past the devastation of the unravelling. As my own stiches came undone, the stitches next to me were strong and I was forced to depend on them. There were so many people who have supported me and my family through this journey. I needed them to remind me of my inherent value. They didn’t know any better than I how to move forward, only that I must.
From this experience, I learned that all I need is purpose. The overwhelming ‘how’ flows with the ‘why’ firmly in place. I suppose that’s what I’m trying to share. Not how to knit. But why. And the value of quiet creativity and discovery. If knitting doesn’t come naturally or comfortably to you, please don’t make a frustration out of it. But find something that fills you up. Something that catches your attention long enough to make you stop and observe, slows you down and surprises you.
Grab your needles and share with me as we stich our way through this tangled life together...
Amanda