Photo provided by fellow knitter, Kathy Jensen

When people comment on a sweater that I knit for myself, it is usually followed by “My grandmother taught me to knit, but I haven’t done it since I was a kid” or “I tried it once…”.  This response astonishes me because I know, deep in my bones, that my life is enriched by knitting in so many ways.  It is rarely about the sweater, the pair of socks, or the baby blanket.  It is about a raft of other emotional and embodied experiences that I associate with knitting. 

I learned to knit when I was 11 and living with my parents in Norway for a year. Yes, knitting was part of the curriculum for all students in public schools at that time  – unfortunately, it was eliminated at some point in the 90s.  My 11-year-old school project was a ski hat with a Norwegian stranded design in the cuff…no scarves for me!   And, I still knit the Norwegian Way (which can be learned on YouTube, if you care to, from the adorable aging Norwegian knitting couple, Arne and Carlos).

I have always loved anything made of fabric…tapestries, hand-woven clothing, batik, quilts…there is something that sings to my soul when I look at the way in which women, throughout time, have used whatever they have on hand to create something beautiful – and sometimes useful.  One of my prized possessions is this untitled tapestry by Ann Baddeley, which I call Freedom to Fly.  I first saw a much larger version, requiring a house of a different size and a bank account to go with it (many tapestries are priced by the square inch).  The gallery called me six months later and said that they had found a similar but smaller and slightly more affordable one.

With the advent of a demanding career and children, I stopped knitting for many years, with a few exceptions — a poorly thought-out Icelandic pullover for my husband and an adorable Norwegian cardigan worn by both my daughters (and now several grandchildren).  But my first grandchild (now 19) inspired me, and I haven’t stopped since….I am a regular member of Ravelry.com, an on-line space for knitters, where there are always over 3000 people with me when I log in.  There I can upload pictures of my own projects (147 since I joined in 2008) and look at what other people have done with the same yarn.  We “friend” and chat – there are groups to enjoy specific yarns or designers, and KALs (knit-a-longs) where people enjoy talking about how they are re-imagining a specific project, whether it is yarn substitutions, colors, sizing, or other “mods”.

But there is much more than being part of both a very old and also very current tradition which, with a few exceptions, is female dominated from the raising of the sheep to the designs. When people ask me why I knit, I rarely refer to the objects I have made but to the process of making them.  Just as some people love the preparation of the materials for an elaborate dish – chopping this-and-that, determining the garnish, collecting the individual spices – I linger in on-line and physical yarn stores, murmuring over colors, textures, and dreaming of what COULD be done with them, even if I know that I will not go any further than the murmurs.   Like a cook loves their knives, I like all of my 50 pairs of needles, the small scissors that I use to clip loose ends, and the various colored markers that we knitters use to keep track of complicated projects.  In other words, the STUFF of knitting is appealing to me.  When we lived in Minneapolis, Dan took me to Steven B’s, lorded over by the self-designated Glitter Knitter – for a special a yearly birthday treat and a prize skein. 

But more than that, we knitters share an understanding of knitting as therapy.  I try never to knit anything that has an absolute deadline (your gift WILL be late!) because I have enough deadlines and appointments in the rest of my life.  There is something about the feel of a delicious yarn passing through the fingers that excites the senses.  Then, there is the rhythm of it – when the stitches just seem to flow and you lose track of time.  I think of it as akin to walking meditation.  There is curiosity and challenge when you want them – always new techniques, different ways of making the wool do what you hope. 

More important is that knitting is one space in my life where I rarely judge myself.  If I make a mistake – well, it always happens and, after the first unprintable exclamation, I contentedly Tink (knit backwards) until I can fix it.  Because the process, the excitement, and the tactile elements are most important, if the final product is a bit disappointing – well, someone who visits Goodwill will probably find it warm and cozy – and maybe even like it!  Or, you can always rip it all out and use that beautiful yarn for something else…

I don’t recommend knitting unless someone is really interested…but I hope that you find something equivalent in your life, something easily available that will give you the sense of being centered that I find when it is just me, a ball of yarn, and an idea of something to make with it.

From woolyknitter.blogspot. (Credit : pinterest.com)