Well dear readers, you know I like to keep it real here and the reality is that I’m more than a bit depleted. The process of rectifying The Series of Unfortunate Decisions that led me to a living in a house and neighborhood that doesn’t fit me is a downright exhausting timesuck. It’s the equivalent of shoveling yourself out of a big pile of shit that only seems to just be getting bigger. Yet you must continue shoveling if you really want to get out, right?
Of course, even though the shoveling must be done, that doesn’t mean you don’t reach a breaking point. And that is the cliff’s edge I’ve been teetering over the last few weeks in particular with the pending move. So when I found myself struggling just to get basic life tasks completed, much less get posts published, I had to stop and recognize that I needed a breather.
Which brings me to knitting. Yes, knitting. For me, it has a zen-ness to it that is calming and clarifying. But I’ve lost sight of it’s therapeutic value in the last few months, leaving my trusty tools gathering dust instead of helping me remain Happy-Go-Lucky Val. What makes knitting so groovy, aside from making neat hats and what-not of course, is that it’s a simple metaphor for life and it’s quite appropriate at this time in mine.
Slowly working stitch-by-stitch, you’re creating and building something unique. It requires energy and focus but little-by-little it takes larger form. Like knitting, our lives are our creations and sometimes you have to back up to fix a fatal flaw. Or sometimes for all of your well-intentioned efforts, you make something that just doesn’t fit. Or sometimes you have to abandon or suspend a project because more pressing needs and desires arise. It’s a beautifully imperfect process and when you find that mental state where you understand and accept that, it’s all good.
So in the course of breaking out my knitting supplies, I rediscovered this glorious, tactilely blissful yarn I bought back in May in Jeffersonville. For five months this wonderful yarn has lain in wait for attention, it’s potential for easing my spirit left untapped. Not only is the yarn a reminder of wonderful travels, it’s a small but necessary solace in a chaotic time.
And so I leave you with this–
All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on. -Havelock Ellis