Building Character

I'm trying to be more Zen in my knitting.  Balance and completion...  I've been prone to ridiculous bouts of Startitis, casting on everything in sight.  I've finished knitting a project, and left the finish work for weeks or months.  I've modified a pattern, not made notes, put it down for months, and gone back completely perplexed as to what the heck I was doing.

I'm still prone to all this, but I'm doing better.  I'm not a Zen Monk, though.  I haven't gotten my knitting journal anywhere near up to date, but I make notes of my modifications on post-its attached to the pattern.  I do my finish work.  I never have more than three things on the needles at a time, one portable, one for home, and one for a class or testing out one of my new designs.  Usually. 

Recently I didn't buy any yarn for a whole year, committing to working through my stash.  Why did I do this?  Was my stash threatening to overtake the oven, kitchen cupboards, and shower?  (Only a little.)  Was I cutting back on my knitting? (Perish the thought.)

No.  I enjoy my knitting more when I savor the current project. As much as I hate to admit it, I can't knit as fast as I can find beautiful fibers to buy.  (Dammit.)  I still feel some backlog pressure, but it's more vague: I look forward to working on that brioche rib vest,  I want to get those mittens done for my husband, and I can't wait to test out this punk sweater for my daughter.  Someday I will either covet less or knit faster.  For now, unrequited yarn lust is building character.  At least, that's what I tell myself.

Zen, Karma and Knitting

In Zen philosophy, one guiding principle is living each moment with intention.  That is, you live only with the effects on the others, environment, and world at large that you intend to have.  Masters of this principle are adept at saying only what they mean to, leaving no ambiguity, and acting without recklessness or disregard.

These are skills that are seriously useful in knitting, and yet not always fun (or achievable!)  As I carefully and thoughtfully grafted together the toes on my "Girlfriend Socks", I could not have been more focused.  I was not in a hurry, or stressed. I was not drinking my evening glass of wine.  (It was skipped on this evening to make sure I was clearheaded when working the Kitchener.)  And yet, two-thirds of the way across the graft of the toe, on a sock that was until now knitted entirely in one piece with one continuous strand of yarn, the unthinkable happened:  the yarn broke.  During the graft.  Almost done.  But not quite.

I uttered several very un-Zen words.  How far back do I go to join a new piece of yarn?  How do I ensure that the new yarn join won't cause a blister?  Is this a big enough flaw to make the gift un-givable?

I tipped the box of wine and watched the Merlot swirl into the glass. And then it hit me.  Another Zen principle is that nothing is perfect, and nothing is permanent.  I sat and drank my wine with intention for a few minutes, and then decided to go with the flow.  I only ripped back a smidge, joined the yarn, and moved on with my grafting.  It went flawlessly this time.

Karma is the circumstance of bringing about inevitable results onto yourself in this life or the next by the quality of your actions.  Whose Karma broke the yarn?  The yarn manufacturer's? Did I do this? Did the recipient Karma herself into blister-causing socks?  Accepting imperfection as part of reality is much easier to do than achieving perfection.  I will focus, and intend good work, but I will learn to accept the inevitable intervention of Karma, too.  At least some of the time it has to make me look good, right?

Knitting Monogamy

While doing my best to be monogamous to my sock project for the Mr., I have managed to knit a sample of the Knit Along for next month. It works! I love when I don't have to redesign, which happens a little less than half the time. My current school load is a little nuts, so I appreciate the reprieve from further knitting homework.

I used to be a strong believer in having a couple or a few projects on the needles at a time. It was good to have one really portable and mindless project for knitting away from home, one more interesting project for my primary knitting, and maybe one long term project that would make me crazy to tackle for more than an hour at a time. That changed when I spent the last year avoiding knitting requests, and only knit what I wanted at any given time. I've discovered I'm more interested in finishing things than I realized. It's not very Zen of me, but the process is not the only reason I do this. If I need a simple project for a situation, I'll cast it on at that time. (Not that these socks are rocket science, mind you, but my knitting time is short these days.)

So now, I'm a one-project-woman, with the exception of the classes I design and the monthly Knit Along. Which means I'm still a knitting polygamist after all. I just have less on the needles. Rats. I guess I'm a recovering polygamist. Wish me luck.