I know a big part of starting a blog is supposed to be finding your niche, finding your voice, but wow, my last few posts are so boring! I am not even interested in me.
Although in person I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve, this blog is scary — I feel so not-myself, so reserved. Aside from the obvious exposure of putting-it-all-out-there, I can’t seem to find the source of my hesitation.
Perhaps it’s that knitting is so personal to me — it represents so many different things I’m trying to do in my life. It’s about creation, making something out of nothing, about the wide-open potential I feel when I hold a ball of yarn. There’s potential there — the simple kinetic energy in my fingers, and the universe of finished objects that can be created with string and sticks.
And with very few exceptions, I only knit things that are intended to be gifts.
Soon I’ll post I posted an inventory here, my own knitting history, but the point is that I’m making things for others. Sometimes for no reason, sometimes for a special occasion, I love that my own hands can write a greeting-card of care and affection in fabric — something that will last far beyond a birthday or wedding day.
Finally, it’s the repetitive motion, the sheer obsessiveness of knitting — it’s a positive channel for all my little tics and shivers. When I knit it’s nothing but satisfaction, a calming act of love and motion.