There is no right answer in knitting, or in life
But there are some things that feel better than others
One of my favorite sayings is: there are no knitting police.
We are free to knit in whatever way feels good for our bodies: maybe that’s as a thrower, or maybe it’s as a picker, or maybe you knit in a different way. (I’m a uncommon left-handed thrower!) Maybe you knit with straight needles, or maybe you prefer circulars. Maybe you always follow patterns precisely as written, or maybe you’ve never followed a pattern as written.
No one is going to tell you that you’re knitting the wrong way. You might want to learn how to do something, but, honestly?, there is no single right way to do anything. Not even knitting designers have a “right way” of writing knitting patterns or teaching technique.
And it’s not just knitting.
There are few rules on how to move through this world. When presented with the same set of circumstances, we might make completely different decisions about the right thing to do. When my son was a baby, lots of parents at the playground valued adventure and would happily let their baby nap in the car or whenever or where-ever needed. But I value coziness and routine, so we always came home for naps in the house. There wasn’t a Right Answer, there was just right for me.
This is something my knitting has reinforced for me, especially these past number of years. There isn’t an overarching right answer to nearly anything, but there are things that feel better to me than others. Knowing what these things are—and no longer trying to make myself fit into the box of normative culture—has been so freeing.
Being careful about what I consume with my brain feels better than mindless consumption of opinions, social media, or news from every outlet.
Seeing beauty beyond the status quo feels better than uncritically consuming the images the world wants to serve me.
Being careful to build my circle around people who are expansive and non-binary in their thinking feels better to me.
Trying my absolute best to do no harm feels better than consuming influencer content that mostly benefits folks who already have the most power and privilege.
Finding the hobbies, the thoughts, the values, and the principles that make you feel most nourished and most alive? This is the work of a lifetime. This is your work, and this is our work as humans. For me, I find there is a nobility in making things with my hands. I feel it every time I sit down to write this mini-essay for you, when my words come through my hands. I feel it when I sit down to knit a sweater that will keep me warm. I am spending my time and using my labor (even if that labor is pleasurable) to both make a thing and to imbue it with love.
I once made a sarcastic joke to my husband about a neighbor, who has a business of collecting scrap metal, something about noise and unsightliness. He said to me, “there is dignity in all work,” and, with this, he reminded me of my own values. It can be easy, in the moment, to forget what matters. But, there are countless small and inadvertent ways we can undermine the big things we believe in—and countless small ways we can reinforce them.
There is dignity in all work. There is nobility in working with one’s hands. There is so much in simply knitting.
Sometimes I wonder whether my closing “well-wishes” are redundant (which they are), but then I remember it’s okay to come back to important things, over and over. So, this week, as I have so done many other weeks before, I wish rest and ease and nourishment for you. I hope you have plenty of time to knit, and plenty of time for the things to consume what life has to offer in the particular way that makes your brain and your body feel better.
Yes. Thank you so much for this essay. It spoke to my heart.
Thank you, as always, for the wonderful reminder to do what we need for ourselves and to enjoy simple details. Earlier I was admiring the way the light reflected through my glass of water…telling myself it’s okay, it’s a good thing to just sit and do that.
My college-kid story: when my first-born was getting ready to start college, I was happy for him, and felt I was prepared for “empty nest.” After all, he was only going to be 30 minutes away! And, I still had a younger child at home in said “nest.” We took him to campus, and the school had a lovely welcoming assembly for us parents, and in the middle of it, with no warning, I started to sob. Well, I realized pretty quick that it wasn’t the distance, it wasn’t the number of fledglings still in the nest…it was the tremendous milestone and all the inevitable emotions such things bring. Sending you love ❤️.