Anyway, here is my rejected because it is too emotional "This I believe":
Knitting – the word evokes images of grandmothers making
those funky little slippers that no one really likes. But for me, knitting is a creative outlet, a
chance to unplug, to create and discover a hidden history of people from around
the world, a chance to touch the past and the future. Knitting has been my saving grace, my creative
outlet, and my prayers. Working the yarn
back and forth on the needles has provided me with an opportunity to fill
otherwise empty time. I’ve searched it
out in literature and in my everyday life.
When I
first learned to knit, choices were limited.
There were the itchy scratchy acrylics of RedHeart, the itchy scratchy wools, or the
way-out-of-my price range luxury items – cashmere or angora. Today there are myriad colors, handpainted
yarns in colors the designer dreams, colors that you would never guess would go
together, yet somehow form a tapestry of hues rivaled only by Mother Nature,
tonals in different values of the same color, solids, heathers, the list goes
on. Lately I have enjoyed dyeing colors
I see in nature – the Pokeweed colorway in rich blue-black purples,
purplish-reds and greens ranging from olive to muddy reddish green, the Field
Corn in deep yellow golds, tans and just a hint of the strawberry pink that
imitates the cob. To get the colors, I go out and look – really closely look at
the natural world.
Once I
have the colors I am looking for comes the pattern search – looking for the
pattern that will accentuate the colors, yet allow the texture of knitting
itself become apparent. Will it look
better as a lace, with the negative space accentuating the colors of the yarn? A cable with its twisting winding road home? Perhaps just a simple rib with the hills and
valleys? Sometimes plan knitting in
stockinette or garter is the answer.
Sometimes even deciding what the yarn wants to be is difficult. I’ve had several yarns that I have started in
socks, only to tear it out and end up making a scarf, shawl or hat from. Yarn designated for a hat for one son became
a hat for another.
You may
think that with all this knitting, I would have lots of beautiful knitted items
in my home, winter wearables to keep warm and cozy, my adult children wearing
hats, gloves and scarves lovingly made by their mother. You would be wrong. Honestly, I am not about the finished
product. I am more interested in the
process of knitting – the feel of the yarn through my fingers, each stich becoming
a prayer for safety, for compassion, for needs of the recipient. Watching the colors flow from one to the
other or the play of light on specific fibers – silk’s shining face, merino’s
warm bloom, alpaca’s ultra warm fuzziness.
I picture my sister and her grandchildren wrapped in a warm ivory shawl
on a cold winter day – reading stories and laughing together. I envision my son, hunting in the woods in
his ‘lucky hunting hat’ – hunter orange with black deer knit in fair isle –
keeping him safe and bringing him a big buck.
The lamb stuffed animal,
reminiscent of the lambs we raised when we were young, that I was creating for
my mother when she passed last spring sits on my work desk as though she is
watching over me.
The amazing part is that all of these items – lace, cables,
the shawl, the hat – all are created using two stitches , because that is all
there is to knitting. I’ve known people
who tell me they cannot knit, it’s too complicated, takes too much time, they
don’t have the patience. To these people
I saw no. No, knitting isn’t
complicated. It takes time and some
understanding of the language of knitting, but there are enough resources to
explain. I always find it remarkable that people say they don’t have time to
knit when they are doing the same thing I am – watching a sporting event,
riding in a car, plane or bus, or enjoying time with friends at our county
fair. We are all doing the same thing,
yet my hands are busy with a simple pattern, creating something to be enjoyed. You don’t have patience to knit, you knit to
learn patience. In a world of immediate
gratification, that can be a valuable lesson.
We don’t always have to have immediate satisfaction and sometimes the
greatest joy in a life is the time it takes to create a work of beauty that
takes a little time and effort.
As an adult, my fiber obsession has seen me through some
very difficult times. When I was
diagnosed with cancer, knitting allowed me to have a connection to my past,
since both my grandmothers knitted, and my future, creating items for my
children, nieces, nephews. When I spent
hours of time in the hospital with my mother, we would sit and talk about what
my latest project was and who it was for.
She would pet the yarn as she would a beloved pet, comforting us both –
her with petting, my ticking off stitch after stitch. When I am stressed to the point of breaking,
I find myself looking for something new to start, something to jump start a
positive flow in my life.
The creative juices used to knit an item are very
individual. I love that even though I
use the same pattern as hundreds of other people, my choice of color, yarn
content, even the very way I knit creates a unique item that no one, even
myself, can recreate exactly. I believe
this uniqueness is what draws me to knitting in a way that other crafts do not
allow. The portability allows me to
bring items with me to work on in odd times- during my lunch hour, perhaps
while waiting in line at the bank, if the pattern is pretty easy, while I am
reading. I’ve been fortunate enough to meet many men and women who share my
passion, meeting to have lunch, go to events, just to sit together and knit and
discuss what we are working on, where we got the yarn, what needles we enjoy,
etc. etc. Inevitably, I am allowed to
glimpse in other’s lives by doing this simple craft, having people ask what I
am doing, recollecting their mother, grandmother or aunt knitting. I enjoy other creative outlets – music, cross
stitch, beading – but none satisfy or allows me to talk to others quite like
knitting.
