photo credit: stevie rocco
Like Miss Marple, I enjoy knitting. I’m not very fast at it, but there’s something about the clacking of those needles and the making of something real out of yarn and two sticks that feels meditative, creative and productive.
And knitting is a good metaphor for life, isn’t it? We take the thread of our gifts, potential and circumstances, and we knit it into the garment of our lives. The question is what kind of lives do we knit? Are they lumpy and off-kilter or smooth and shapely?
If you think the “right” answer is smooth and shapely, you’d be wrong.
There are stories from around the world about deliberate mistakes introduced by craftspeople into their work, Navajo weavers and Amish quilters among them. But these are mistakes introduced by master craftspeople, the idea being that a mistake is an aid to humility by reinforcing that they are not perfect.
Our lumpy lives are more like those moments when, perhaps as children, we’re learning a new skill and we get so frustrated and angry with our lack of progress that we throw the knitting, the sewing or whatever across the room. Our mistakes are organic, not deliberate.
And that’s as it should be.
One day as a little girl I learned how to do cross-stitch. My auntie taught me. I remember a white cloth, bright blue thread and what seemed to me a very large needle. I sat with my tongue sticking out of the corner of my mouth, concentrating fiercely, staining that white cloth with the grubby fingers I’d forgotten to wash after coming in from the garden. I was so proud when I managed a whole row of crooked little blue crosses along the by-now grimy cloth.
I’ve never done cross-stitch from that day to this, but I remember that glorious imperfection very well – to me it was a wonderful achievement.
And now I’m much older and there’s more knitting hanging down from my needles than there is to come, I realise that the very best mistakes are made because we’re not afraid to try something new.
It doesn’t matter how lumpy the knitting of your life is, it still makes a unique and beautiful pattern, don’t you think?
Many thanks to new reader Maria, whose post Learning an Old Skill at her lovely blog A Moment in My Day set off this train of thought.
Thank you so much for mentioning that post. Like you, my grandmother taught me everything I know about sewing. She was an amazing dressmaker…she never minded the mistakes. It is unique that way, she would say
m.
Maria recently posted..Does living simpler make you sour?
Thank you, Maria, what a wonderful grandmother!
ah this metaphor could continue in so many directions….like whether our life knit is made of cotton, wool, silk, synthetic, or a combo of all
i’ve never been big on the textile crafts, although fabric, trims, buttons, zips, are calling my name at the moment for some reason
having fun sewing with a hot-glue gun
Kel recently posted..Permission slip
Enjoy that hot-glue gun!
Knitting is a very meditative thing for me. I like to knit and listen to music, and just take my mind out of gear and let it roll where it will. Last year, I taught myself to hold the thread in my left hand — the continental style of knitting — and I like to knit even more than I did, as it goes faster and is easier on my hands and wrists. One of my characters who is knitting a sweater for a boy supposedly dying of cancer makes the comment, “There’s always one mistake I let by, one that I don’t fix. If (the sweater) had no mistakes, it would be perfect, and only God is perfect.”
WOL recently posted..Too Good Not To Share
Yes, that meditative thing is important for me too. It’s why I tend not to attempt anything complicated. I like your character’s comment.
I’m knitting quite a bit at present. Spinning too as my MIL gave me her wheel which is way better than mine
It’s a nice way to go and very portable. I’ve made socks for everyone in the family now just out of oddments. Nothing to match colour wise, just size 
I never could follow a pattern though. I just have to start with the correct number of stitches and the rest is subject to whatever I think it needs. This is somewhat because no pattern was ever made to fit my particular shape but also just because I can.
I do remember my very first piece of knitting. My grandmother taught me and I chose a very hot pink and made a rather short and wonky stole for my doll. I think I was about 6 at the time. She started me embroidering too but it was my mother and myself who taught each other to spin out of a book when I was 15. She became the expert and I moved on to other things.
I don’t think I’d like to live an unlumpy life. It would have no lows/disadvantages but at the same time, there would be no highs either. Perfection was never my thing anyway
I’ll take bitter with my sweet.
viv in nz
knutty knitter recently posted..Sunday 8th January 2012 Back at NEV!
Hi Viv, how lovely to be doing some spinning, I’d really like to try that one day. And yes, taking the bitter with the sweet is part of life isn’t it?
[...] a break and visited one of my favorite blogs, Pilgrim’s Moon. And there I found a post on ‘Knitting Our Lives’ . I’ve been knitting since I was a young girl and found myself nodding my head in agreement as [...]