Knitting or Witchcraft or Both

Knitting

I woke up one morning in January, 2012, knowing that I had to get some knitting needles and knit. 

Seriously. 

This was an odd experience because it's not often I follow on such urges. Usually, things like this pass over me, and then go away. That day was different. I got up, got dressed, thought about it, and then drove to Hobby Lobby, bought some US 13 (big) needles and some yarn, and came home to search for instructional videos on the computer. 

I spent several weeks doing four things:

1. Watching and replaying YouTube videos on knitting basics.

2. Attempting to use my very oversized needles and yarn in a way that looked vaguely like what I saw on my computer screen. 

3. Cursing quietly when I had to tear out everything and start again.

4. Watching Downton Abbey in between all this craziness. 

So now, my first knitting memories are inextricably linked to memories of Mr. Bates, Lord Grantham, and the Dowager Countess. 

About a month in, I realized that I needed a real teacher, and found one at the local Joann shop (which is still one of my favorite places to shop for supplies). After that, things started taking off, and I began knitting in earnest. Since that time, I've moved from small things, like cup cozies (which I still make on request) to larger things, like my first sweater (which I finished in time for my first knitting anniversary). 

Why Knitting?

I tell most people that I knit to relieve stress. This is mostly true. I think I came to knitting last year because I'd promised myself that I would learn more about relaxation, more specifically how I could relax more, in 2012 (it was not a resolution...I don't do resolutions). When I had that moment of "go, knit," I knew nearly nothing about the craft. After I started though, I noticed that I was generally happier and...yes, calmer (except when I was tearing out something or trying to figure out how to do a stitch left-handed when all I had was right-handed instructions). Apparently others have noticed this trend in their own lives too. Knitting, according to Herbert Benson, physician and author of Relaxation Revolution , "reduces stress hormones and releases endorphins that make you happy." He also asserts that the repetition found in knitting "breaks the train of everyday worry." 

What I don't say often is that I knit because I like the idea of making something with my own hands. Anyone can buy a sweater, a hat, a pair of socks. Anyone. Not so many people can make these things. There is a satisfaction I get from taking a skein or two of yarn, and turning it into something that is useful and pretty. Crafting, making, runs pretty deep in my family. We like working with our hands. My dad makes furniture. Gina paints and embroiders. Mom sews. Stuart works with leather and wood. I knit. I'm pretty sure this need to make is genetic. I know that some people don't get this need. Some people have this idea of "Why should I make what I can go and purchase and be done with?" I guess that thought has merit. I'm just not a pure consumer. I love the process (which is probably why I love writing too---the process) of making something. 

Witchcraft

Yesterday, I was working on one of a pair of gloves I'm knitting for Stuart. This particular project uses double pointed needles (basically four sticks pointed on both ends hold the project together while I use a fifth pointy stick to pull the new stitches. If tiny tiny vampires enter the house, I'm set.) and looks complicated (it's really not, but when you watch, it's hard to know that). Gina was watching me, almost transfixed at one point. 

I said, "What are you looking at?" 

She said, "I'm not sure how you do that. What is that witchcraft?"

Later I mentioned this on Facebook, and Bryan (from the Kiss the Roof of Georgia adventure) observed that some consider magic as a form of weaving. I'd not really considered this, but I see his point. I'm putting a few different basic elements together to build, make something new and (hopefully) useful. It is sort of magical. There is a sort of power to it too, though not the type I'd use to rule the universe or control people or that  absolute power that Shakespeare so aptly observes corrupts absolutely. 

When I knit,  there is the power of happiness. When I share or sell my knitting, that happiness (hopefully) spreads to those who receive my projects. When I knit, I learn more about myself and my own ability to be happy in each moment. Every knit, every purl reminds me that, in that moment, I did something kind of cool and awesome. 

Yeah, I know this is pretty metaphysical. 

Knitting has also helped with my writing. It reminds me that mistakes can be dealt with, and that if I work a little every day, that my skills get better and I'm less afraid to continue. I know these things, really, but my knitting projects are physical reminders of these really internal struggles. 

I also praise myself a bit more. This is something that is hard for me---praising myself. I was raised to believe that tooting my horn was pride (I wish I could make this word have flames coming off of it). Pride is a bad thing, and so thinking that your work is awesome and that you are somehow good was also a bad thing. That is nonsense. I make beautiful things and am a beautiful person. Pride is really when you think you and your stuff are better than anyone else and you have no room to learn and grow and expand your awesome. 

I'm far from the best knitter or writer or person. I have a lot of things to learn. I fail a lot. Still, I know that:

1. I am a pretty awesome person. Quirky? Yes. Struggling? Daily. Awesome? Every day. 

2. I am a good writer. This is something I have to say in my head all the time. It helps to have all of you millions of readers commenting and reading my ramblings. Thank you. 

3. I am a good knitter. Every day I knit, I get better. Every day I get better, I want to knit more. 

Both

Knitting has helped me change a lot of my internal dialogue. How can you really be dark inside long when you are raising your endorphins consistently? When I start hearing the internal dialogue turn to self-loathing (believe me, I can be the queen of self-loathing at times), I just hold up my knitting project and say, "Wow. That's beautiful. How can I be awful and boring and all the other things you, oh self, want me to wallow in? I made that (whatever project). Get over yourself." It doesn't always work. It's not a cure all by any stretch, but it helps. 

So maybe knitting is witchcraft or maybe it's just the endorphins talking. 

Time to get back to the glove... (pictures later, I hope).