The Zen of Knitting

There is irony in knitting.

Slipping one smooth needle into a knot, looping the yarn around the needle and then pushing the new loop off the needle only to start all over again becomes one seamless movement.  Again and again.  One tiny movement leads to a new knot, another completed row.

I find that repetition satisfying--my head bobs with the knitting, shaking my thoughts free.  It is during this activity I come up with ideas (like baby names), answers, and remember forgotten details.  I love the squishiness of the natural wool.  The colors make me think of the past; the project makes me think of the future.

The irony comes with the aggravation stemming from the slowness of the project.  One stitch at a time.  One tiny knot excruciatingly adds up to one row, then two rows, then a ridge and so on.   I clutch tightly onto the needles and yarn out of fear that I'll drop a stitch.  I knit at a snail's pace. I knit like a left-handed person because I first watched a left-handed person knitting.  I do not knit prettily.

When I stop and examine my progress, I cannot help but feel disappointed--that's all I did?  I even google up tips on how to knit faster and come up with nothing particularly helpful.  I look at some knit porn that spurs me on.  I knit on with determined doggedness, and there is nothing zenlike about that.

Knitting is calming and aggravating.  I love it.  I get nothing done; I get so much done.  

It was while knitting my baby's blanket that I came up with this blog post idea.

Life became busier last fall, when I began teaching two college courses without all the curriculum materials in place.  Commitments seemed to accumulate at an astounding rate.  Levi's grandfather was severely ill all fall; Douglas spent time at the hospital visiting his father on Saturdays and on Sundays went to rehearsal for Xavier Cha's performance piece.  We began preparing for my mother's move in, rearranging the guest bedroom.    One of our tenants got a job promotion and had to end his lease earlier than expected.  Levi and I ended our nursing time together and he began transitioning to his toddler bed.

During this trying time, I felt tired and cloudy all the time.  I dropped a few stitches, including this blog.  

My semester of teaching has ended.  Levi's grandfather returned home a few weeks ago, and came to visit us for the first time last week.  Douglas performed at the New Museum and I sat in the front so incredibly proud of him.  My mother moved in with us.  We signed on new tenants.  Levi's tantrums have subsided and we're tentatively calling him "an easy kid."  He loves his new bed and occasionally tells me that my milk is "all out, but soon have milk again for baby."

Now that the due date is just three weeks away and all those loose unraveled ends are knitting themselves up, I feel ready to face this blog again.  Yet I'm overwhelmed.  Where do I start?  Should I post photographs from the past months gone, or do I just start from now on?

I'm taking my baby blanket's lead.  Just pick up the dropped stitch and keep going on.