There I am in a tiny basement
apartment, in the middle of a big city, listening to her story of single
motherhood. She is trying to strike some
balance with her emotions and her obligations, her frustration with her older
husband who left for a different woman. It’s
over 25 years ago and I actually forget many of the details…except for
one. We were knitting socks. In between the easier rows I listened to her snippets of raising a daughter on her own while juggling a teaching job; and a
certain kind of nighttime loneliness that got stirred up when her three year
old crawled into her bed and she wondered if she was making the right
decision. As her younger colleague I
had no advice to offer. I hadn’t even
really lived any “life” as of yet. So
I kept knitting and instead listened to the voices around me-among them a much
more seasoned grandmother who had been through more experiences than all of us
combined. She was busy dreaming about
retirement, renting a camper and traveling the country. She was anxious to be free. And she knew that it didn’t really matter
where the little girl slept. It just
mattered that they forged through this time with each other and swallowed up the
dark until the morning light.
And then, many years later,
knitting a little brown hat, I am witness to the unexpected realization of a
friend who is fearlessly and quite accidently journaling her way out of a
marriage -though she doesn’t know it yet.
She just knows that she ran into an old “love” quite unexpectedly and it
stirred her in some deep undeniable way; bits of clarity exposed about where she
is meant to be at this time in her life.
The entries were hidden in her glove compartment and in a second of
doubt she burned them in her fireplace that night. But the nagging was still there (some things
are hard to burn away)—not to reconnect with her old flame, rather to embrace
the change on the horizon and find the place that she was actually meant to be-to
answer the restlessness that was keeping her awake at night.
It takes time to sort through
a lot of this stuff. The fact that LOVE thrusts you in places you
never expected to go. Whether it be
love of our children, parents, companions, or friends; or love of adventure,
risk or safety. There are too many “knitting stories” to count, so many
instructive life stories that connected the fears, dreams and pain of living
daily life. And the stories of these
people have stayed with me; they are woven into my being.
And in very sharp contrast, I
have forgotten the viral videos I watched yesterday. They were quick, fast and that is all—I had
no real connection to them. Though it is
so easy to press play on my computer; on my phone; to feel momentarily
connected while pushing back time for one more minute, and then another, until
I am filled with pictures and stories of people I don’t even know. Suddenly,
a sense of isolation has crept into my life and I realize that something deep
and important is missing.
Slow knitting, the antithesis
to the speed of the current world, connected me in a deep and powerful way to
the authentic stories of the people I was with in real time. Time
that often feels agonizingly slow when you pondering a life choice, when
nothing feels clear or right; when things just feel hard. Virtual worlds leave me longing to find my
way back to my slower one, the one rich with real people struggling over daily
decisions just like me. Where the
current technology keeps me abreast of the news and the weather, it does not
fill that deep reservoir of my spirit, my soul, of my need to connect with
people. Knitting gives me a reason to
do that. To slow down the speed of life,
to tap into the wide world of questions without answers; to feel the slowness
of change in relationships, the shifts of perspective, the opening up of pain
and the pleasure of friendships. This
all takes time. Knitting time.
Well spoken (as usual). I would offer that we associate behavior with medium -- that is, knitting is an analog activity and one that both takes time and allows for simultaneous conversation, so that is the way you approach it. We use our smartphones or browser-based social media for quick laughs; reminders of appointments or addresses; or 140 character updates from friends -- so that is how we approach it. But we can train ourselves to hit "Continue Reading" on a FB post that is several paragraphs or, as I just did here -- not my usual approach -- take a few minutes to read a blog post and ponder it's meaning.
ReplyDeleteThanks for improving my day -- post 1, purl 2 style.
Glenn, I love that you know some knitting lingo. You are even smarter than I originally thought.
DeleteNice. While I don't knit, I did do paper art with my family members while away at Christmas. It is very meditative to create with a group and listen to their conversations.
ReplyDeleteTotally true. The medium for your hands can be anything repetitive and creative...it lets your mind wander. There was a great NYTimes article a year or so back about the Waldorf schools in the silicon valley that addresses this issue. Kathleen-I think you'd like the article, try googling it. Thanks for reading my thoughts. Your creative energy inspires me everyday....
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