Over the weekend I learned to knit. Angie taught me. I had been dropping hints for about a week. We’d be in the car and I’d say things like “I should learn to knit” or “maybe I could make some socks”. Something about being able to make clothes out of a single thread with my bare hands really appealed to me. I had to learn.
So there I was on Saturday casting on with all the dexterity of ten thumbs, hyper focused on something that has been a part of human creativity for thousands of years. We had Stephen West videos playing and were laughing around the table at every distressed groan while attempting to knit, knit, purl.
The next day we found ourselves knitting around my mother-in-law’s table. Talking, laughing, and sharing stories, a past time as old as human beings. Hours went by, knit 2, purl 2, ohh man; I have to start this all over again. What takes hours to put together takes seconds to undo as a single strand is pulled. It is the ultimate act of non-attachment, like Buddhist monks making a sand mandala, just less messy. We laugh and begin again.
It would have been frustrating if I had any expectations about the quality or quantity of the knits I produced in the time spent. Instead it was joyful because I didn’t. I was just knitting with my family and it was great.
I think the best things in life are like that. The campfire, the hike, the picnic, the walk, ……the knitting circle.
Thanks for reading,