I’ve always had a hard time defining my creativity. Am I artistic? No. Even my stick figures are shameful, and I can’t draw a circle to save my life. Am I artsy fartsy? Also no, as I don’t know the first thing about art history or theory, and the walls of my house are stark. Am I crafty? Sort of, but only in really specific areas like curling things with scissors. I guess adhesives could also be considered one of my strong points, and my husband says I “make good signage.” Fair enough.
A few months back when I temporarily had quite a bit of time on my hands (more on that here), I decided crafting was exactly what I needed. But where to start? Pulling my sewing machine out of the craft closet was more than I could commit to. The blank canvases staring at me from the shelf felt oppressive. But crammed in the side of my textiles bin was a ball of yarn. And that seemed just about right. So I started knitting. Now wooly balls of yarn fluff float around my house. Craft store coupons live in my purse rubble. Evenings are filled with the clickety click of my needles, and I’ve fully cemented my identity as a Golden Girl/millennial hybrid. But I’ve found my place of zen, and I’m not letting go.
Knitting really has meditative qualities. When I first said this to my husband, he immediately disagreed. “Do you have any idea how much you swear when you’re knitting?” OKAY BUT THAT WAS JUST ON THAT ONE PROJECT WHICH WAS A NIGHTMARE IT DOESN’T COUNT. (See below, “Be as ambitious as you want to be.”) The repetitive action of needlework can actually induce a relaxed state, lowering your heart rate and blood pressure – like yoga, but on the couch – and often has other long-term therapeutic benefits.
For me, it provides a sense of order during times of chaos, which – as a toddler mom – is all the time. When I get into the rhythm of working on a project it’s absolutely soothing. Knit three, purl three. Knit three, purl three. Knit three, purl three. I just keep happily click clicking along as my project grows and grows. And as all you moms can attest, there’s nothing like the pride you have for something you’ve created with your own two hands (or womb). Bonus points if it’s useful.
It’s self-contained and minimally hazardous. I live in a small house with my husband, toddler, dog, and cat. All available space is occupied by existing chaos, so I need to be strategic with what I bring into my home. Painting takes up too much space, and did I mention I have a toddler? Sewing isn’t too bulky, but my little one would undoubtedly dig out a pin cushion, and then I would be scrubbing blood off every surface in my house. Jewelry making is too futzy and small, requires a lot of choking hazard-sized items, and one bad supply spill and I might never recover.
On the flip side, all of my knitting projects exist in one cute tote my mom made. (It has sheep on it.) No muss, no fuss, no heavy machinery, or sticky substances, or toxic fumes. It’s pretty much the perfect project.
Knitting is only as hard as you make it. You want fast results with minimal effort? Get yourself some circular needles and a skein of super bulky yarn, because it’s cowl time.
This was my first project and a great place to start. My mom, ever-supportive and excited about my enthusiasm for one of her passions, found me a pattern and took me to buy needles and yarn. Once I found a few videos online to get me started, I was off and running. Cast on 53 stitches, then knit three, purl three until you’re almost out of yarn, and bind off. I knitted while the toddler napped, and I knitted while the water boiled on the stove, and I knitted while we watched tv. In a surprisingly short amount of time, I had my first completed knitting project. Easy breezy.
That being said…
Be as ambitious as you want to be. I went back to the yarn store after my first project. Not the craft store, the yarn store – where the proprietor sashays around in a glorious handmade chartreuse poncho and everyone present has been knitting since before I was born. I started asking questions about adapting patterns and using different yarns. “So can I use this yarn with this pattern?” Well, no. “Okay, so if I wanted to sort of do this pattern, but use those needles?” Probably not. “Here’s what I’m trying to achieve. Do you think it will work?” Not really.
I don’t take kindly to people telling me that my harebrained schemes are doomed to fail, so I left without buying anything, and I went home to plan. My goal was to knit my name into a cowl using binary. Did I already lose you? Okay, hold onto something. I took my full name, Kathleen, and translated it into binary (zeroes and ones). That meant 6 digits per letter for 8 letters, totaling 48 digits.
K – 01101011
A – 01100001
T – 01110100
H – 01101000
L – 01101100
E – 01100101
E – 01100101
N – 01101110
Each digit would be one stitch, and the whole string of numbers would be one row. Then every single row would be the same, so the finished product would have vertical lines of zeroes (knit stitch) and ones (purl stitch). Knit, purl, purl, knit, purl, knit, purl, purl. That was a K, and away I went.
Now, I do have to say that this was a terrible idea. No matter how nerdy you think you are, DON’T TRY TO KNIT IN BINARY. It was incredibly difficult to execute, and I regularly brought my knitting to my poor, sweet, darling mother to fix my myriad of mistakes (particularly after an evening of knitting with a glass of wine by my side).
It was a massive undertaking, but I set out to achieve something of my own creation, and I succeeded.
The peace that comes from real zen meditation doesn’t come immediately. You have to work at it, which seems oxymoronic. In the same way, it’s only after work – knitting and purling and asking your mom if you can combine two skeins of yarn by tying them together and watching her recoil in horror – that the zen tranquility comes your way. But it’s a worthwhile journey, and one I will continue to enjoy.
