There is a storm cloud in my living room.
No, I don't mean that GB and I are fighting - perish the thought!
But right next to my couch is a box. In that box is a clear plastic bag, and in that bag is a storm cloud. A four-ounce cloud; soft as a summer breeze, the color of clouds just before a storm, the very instant the temperature changes and the leaves turn over. That color.
Of course, my cloud is mostly wool, with some French angora, llama, and mohair blended in as well. A beautiful cloud of fiber, just waiting to be spun into yarn... I think it wants to be a hat for GB. I've not knit anything for him yet, because of the "curse-which-must-not-be-tempted" but after all, we are married now, and I think a soft, warm - but masculine - hat will be a nice start.
It's amazing the peace that washes over a knitter or a spinner. A rhythm is found, one that can't really be searched for, and the entire body succumbs - breathing, pulse, it all melts into oneness with the fibers. It's something I've witnessed on my own, and also seen in others and it is beauty. That wasn't a typo - I don't mean that it is beautiful, I mean that it is what beauty is. That peace, it is self-defining beauty.
The entire process of it all is something that I think is really missing in our society. Taking a gift from nature - without harming nature in any way - and working with it, cleaning it, combing it into fiber, spinning the fiber into yarn, knitting that yarn into a practical piece of fabric, clothing, or a blanket. With each step of the production we commune with ourselves and the fibers, we meditate, pray, emmit love. Many knitters are so intuned with their feelings while they knit that years later they can go back to a portion of a sweater and say "I was working on this sleeve when X happened." It's a "zone" that is a blessed, cherished place, often very private, but such a joy to share as well. So many times we look for the fastest way to do things that we forget about the meaning behind the process. The end does not always justify the means, does it? Which is "better" - a store-bought card, or one that your three year old made of construction paper and glue? There is greatness in being able to say "I made that" - even if "that" isn't aesthetically perfect. Pride in stepping back from your work, work that you've slaved over, each and every stitch ingrained into your heart and soul, and seeing the bigger picture. What was once "hair" on a sheep, after much twisting and turning, is now spun into yarn. What was once yarn, after still more twisting and turning, is a sweater that will drape over me with amazing softness, keeping me warm. And reminding me of the peace of it's creation each time I touch it.
Thoughts for the Day:
Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe - If you create something you must be something.
Charles Dickens - The whole difference between construction and creation is exactly this: that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed; but a thing created is loved before it exists.
Bob Rodale - To be the agent whose touch changes nature from a wild force to a work of art is inspiration of the highest order.
No, I don't mean that GB and I are fighting - perish the thought!
But right next to my couch is a box. In that box is a clear plastic bag, and in that bag is a storm cloud. A four-ounce cloud; soft as a summer breeze, the color of clouds just before a storm, the very instant the temperature changes and the leaves turn over. That color.
Of course, my cloud is mostly wool, with some French angora, llama, and mohair blended in as well. A beautiful cloud of fiber, just waiting to be spun into yarn... I think it wants to be a hat for GB. I've not knit anything for him yet, because of the "curse-which-must-not-be-tempted" but after all, we are married now, and I think a soft, warm - but masculine - hat will be a nice start.
It's amazing the peace that washes over a knitter or a spinner. A rhythm is found, one that can't really be searched for, and the entire body succumbs - breathing, pulse, it all melts into oneness with the fibers. It's something I've witnessed on my own, and also seen in others and it is beauty. That wasn't a typo - I don't mean that it is beautiful, I mean that it is what beauty is. That peace, it is self-defining beauty.
The entire process of it all is something that I think is really missing in our society. Taking a gift from nature - without harming nature in any way - and working with it, cleaning it, combing it into fiber, spinning the fiber into yarn, knitting that yarn into a practical piece of fabric, clothing, or a blanket. With each step of the production we commune with ourselves and the fibers, we meditate, pray, emmit love. Many knitters are so intuned with their feelings while they knit that years later they can go back to a portion of a sweater and say "I was working on this sleeve when X happened." It's a "zone" that is a blessed, cherished place, often very private, but such a joy to share as well. So many times we look for the fastest way to do things that we forget about the meaning behind the process. The end does not always justify the means, does it? Which is "better" - a store-bought card, or one that your three year old made of construction paper and glue? There is greatness in being able to say "I made that" - even if "that" isn't aesthetically perfect. Pride in stepping back from your work, work that you've slaved over, each and every stitch ingrained into your heart and soul, and seeing the bigger picture. What was once "hair" on a sheep, after much twisting and turning, is now spun into yarn. What was once yarn, after still more twisting and turning, is a sweater that will drape over me with amazing softness, keeping me warm. And reminding me of the peace of it's creation each time I touch it.
Thoughts for the Day:
Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe - If you create something you must be something.
Charles Dickens - The whole difference between construction and creation is exactly this: that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed; but a thing created is loved before it exists.
Bob Rodale - To be the agent whose touch changes nature from a wild force to a work of art is inspiration of the highest order.
posted by Amie at
7:55 AM
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