Just two months ago I wrote about my inability to knit and my surprise when I found two pairs of intricately patterned mittens I had made a few years ago. I wondered if I would ever have the calm again to return to knitting, to say nothing of the desire, or if perhaps the knitting phase was over, to be replaced with....what?
Perhaps through voicing it out loud, or perhaps because I was finally open to considering it, I have begun to knit again. Not compulsively, not obsessively, but replacing other mindless activities which had been substituting for down-time, I have returned to the needles. Four friends are the recipients of new hats, and I have broken my online dependency habit as a result.
This is symbolic for me, because while knitting can induce a sense of calm through the repetitive nature of the activity, it also requires a certain calm, a willingness to slow down and do something which takes time and does not have immediate gratification. I didn't have that calm a year ago, and it has returned, for which I am most grateful.
In addition, knitting represents the domestic side of me, a side which I associated with my marriage and from which I apparently had a need to emotionally divorce. And now I can face that side of me, sans husband, sans association, sans fear of not appearing sexy to potential suitors. It really is a fifty/fifty situation, like so many others: half mind, half body. Sexy isn't about how you dress or the fact you don't knit; domestic isn't about who you are sharing your life with. One person, multiple facets. Welcome back, knitting, welcome back calm; I'm not sure which came first, like the proverbial chicken and egg.
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