I’m not going to include a photo because it’s the same as the other socks, only in the other colorway. It’s not done — but I have hopes for tonight, if this headache goes away. (If it doesn’t I’m not attempting any sort of bind-off, thank you very much).
I was planning on showing off our wheels (spinning wheels; we did not purchase a car) this week, but I never got around to taking the photos. We have a new addition to our family, as Beth has acquired her first e-spinner, and she is gorgeous, but she’ll get her own post at some future date. Instead, today I wanted to post about knitting, and how knitting has largely replaced yoga in my life, in terms of getting me to sit and be still, and touch in. I’m not even sure what I want to say about it — I enjoy it a bit more than I enjoy yoga because it mostly doesn’t hurt (yoga does, these days, thanks to the back injury, and yes, I need to get a primary care doctor and see about mending that, because ouch. Between my knee, the toe, and the back, all the poses I like, except for gentle down dog, have pretty much been nixed, and what’s the point if I can’t do my favorites?). Knitting takes me to that inner quiet *and* I get to tell myself, at least I’m productive, when that critic kicks up and tries to tell me that I’m “just” sitting there, wasting time.
Right now, I’m more nostalgic when it comes to my yoga practice. I miss having this first devotional activity that helped me connect with Poseidon be a part of my life, and I feel like I ought to want to practice. But when I sit down and consider the scant free time I have? I generally either want to be knitting, or I want to be writing, or I am so tired that I want to just be still. This makes me a little sad, but I know that it’s going to pass, and that eventually I’ll want to go back to my yoga practice.
Knitting helps keep me mindful. It reminds me that I want to live my life outside of the fastfastfast pace. It reminds me of all the knitters that have come before. It reminds me of how much time used to go into every facet of survival. It helps me touch in with my ancestors — chances are good that some of them knitted at some point, but it’s less about knitting and more about textile history and that commonality that we can share.
Okay, yes, and I love touching fiber.
These seemingly mundane things — writing, knitting — are so steeped in my spiritual experiences. I don’t sit down and think, “okay, I’m knitting this item, and while I do so I’m going to meditate on Poseidon,” and thus dedicate the experience to spiritual pursuits (except when I do) but that doesn’t matter. It’s holistic, right? It isn’t “my spiritual life” and then “my mundane life.” I don’t have that division, and the idea of such a division sounds wretched to me. There is simply my life, and in my life, knitting does as much for me spiritually, as yoga does.
And it gives me socks.