Welcome to so many new folks! Whether you’re brand new or have been here for a while, I’d love to know how you found me:
Today, I’m sharing a newly-polished version of one of my most popular mini-essays. I’m doing a lot of dyeing right now (for my yarn subscription club and for a holiday surprise) and also a lot of writing and researching (as part of the upcoming community care retreat for paid members of this newsletter). Time for fresh writing has been a bit scarce.
And, it’s good to revisit things. Not everything in life needs to be new. Sometimes, things you’ve previously loved can be just as good and just as meaningful.
I hope you’ll enjoy today’s letter, freshly buffed for you.
Every evening, I spend one or two hours knitting. When I mentioned this to a non-knitting friend, she was so surprised. “Really? Two hours? Every evening??” From her tone, it seemed like a crazy thing to do, an absurdly generous block of time to spend …. knitting. Making stitches. Yarn tensioned in my fingers, loops on a needle.
But I suspect you’ll understand how soothing it can feel to slow down from the day with your knitting needles or crochet hook.
How quietly powerful it can feel to make something that didn’t exist before you picked up a skein of yarn and cast on. How it can counterbalance all the forces demanding your attention in the attention economy.
As someone who has a yarn business, I’ve come to deeply appreciate knitting every evening on a project that is fueling my creative energy. Usually this is a personal project—in other words, not a design that will become a pattern, or a color swatch for my shop, and not a sample that has a deadline.
Knitting is my creative practice.
You don’t have to create a knitting pattern to be creative. I believe that the simple act of knitting itself is creative.
There are a million choices that go into creating something from a pattern, from the choice of the pattern (which one? who will wear it? what features of this pattern appeal to you? why?) to the modifications you will make (will you knit this exactly as the pattern specifies? will you lengthen it to suit your particular body? will you want to adjust the shape? how?) to your yarn choice to the colors you choose. So many creative choices, each one full of possibility and personality, difference and uniqueness. Full of you.
Some folks will tell you that craft and art are different, or that following a pattern is something anyone can do, but I am here to tell you something else. I’m here to tell you that you are creative, and creative practice is an essential part of what makes us human.
My own creative practice looks something like this:
I love color. I knit and sew. I dye yarn. I doodle and paint. I do at least one or two of these things every day, and the doing has been a huge part of my own wellness and self-care.
I’ve talked before about how I downsized my yarn business, Little Skein, in order to focus on family and health during the pandemic. Although I’m now in a period of greater work capacity, honestly, I’m still processing all that happened during the Covid years as well as the trauma of the Tr*mp years. It’s a lot.
A quick aside: My newsletter and online spaces are no-Tr*mp areas. All of my social media and public writing are firmly intersectional, feminist spaces. If these words feel like a balm to you, welcome. You have found your people. (If not, there are other spaces that can host you. This just isn’t one of them.)
I have a natural drive to understand systems, to figure out my place within them, and to figure out where I—with my own small circle and particular constellation of talents—can make things better.
Knitting more, learning how to crochet, and making things by hand has been instrumental for me. Yarn craft and the creativity that comes with it gives me a deeper well of calm and energy—which in turn fuels my ability to do things in my off-line community. Like advocating for diversity at my kid’s school or writing a few more postcards to liberal voters.
I think it may do this for you, too.
This Sunday, I hope that you are finding a rhythm to your creative process and that you are finding small moments of joy to savor. I hope you will knit a little bit more, crochet a little bit more, and make something by hand.
With love,
Anne
I don’t remember the exact path to you, but I followed Twitter refugees to Substack (most notably Heather Cox Richardson and Louise Tilbrook). So either through Louise or looking for knitters.
Am I losing it or did you change the name of this Substack?
I love your new title as well as your words - they really resonate with me. I also appreciate your "aside." Thank you! It's good to take a stand.