Crafting a delicious adventure, exploring this beautiful life, finding joy by being in the moment
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The sound of letting go
It's a big yawn. A soft exhale. A carefree squawk of laughter.
This year has been utterly different from what I hoped and planned for at the start of the year. It's brought many challenges and many unexpected gifts - more often than not out of those challenges. The end of the eternal winter and the start of the spring found me very low and I reached out for help. Antidepressants and counselling. Life rafts that have helped me float on through a year where the physical constraints of my knee injury had taken away two of my greatest balancers: regular yoga classes and long, wonder full rambles. They continue to help me now as I wait for an operation on my knee. Wait and unravel. Slowly slowly. No matter how slowly I think I am going there is a level beneath that my soul craves. Not a standstill but ponderous, languid, incremental.
I write this from my room of my own. Feeling a pull back to this virtual space as I seek to kindle sparks of inspiration. The eternal building project has a last few nails to be banged and walls to be painted but I am here in my very own space. Den. Studio. Nest. Craft room. Burrow. Study. Container of joy! It makes me feel like a teenager again, fussing in my bedroom, the rearrangements of furniture, pictures, books helping find a sense of who I am. Though teenage Sarah would have had her eyes on stalks at the range of fairy lights available.
Who knows what crafts will actually occur in here. At the moment the sheer pleasure of grouping like with like and dreaming of being able to lay my hand on the exact desired supply are enough.
As we descended towards the shortest day I could feel the need to turn within very strongly. I kept coming back to the image of a mossy hollow. Tucked in the earth, at the roots of a bare tree, a space where I could curl up in to a ball and let the days pass. It sounded soft and comforting, but the slowing has been awkward, and though the body tells me what it needs, keeping the mind, and the world around me to the same pace is always the challenge. As my new knitting project grows, I see the browns and dark greens are like the manifestation of the hollow. Happily a softer, cosier representation. Knitting this wrap is a process that literally helps me create the space I craved. I have been falling home from work and into its embrace all week. The long rows create a rhythm that wasn't in my hands as they scurried at the socks. Warm and safe from epic rains and winds. The hollow is the dip my bum is making in the sofa cushions.
I'm sure if I had to make bread every day I would feel it was just as much of a chore as changing the bed or dusting. Luckily I could skip to the shops and buy a loaf and so it comes to pass that I am driving home from work on a Friday night thinking - ooh I could be really indulgent this weekend and bake some more bread. I guess at least this current passion beats knitting socks as those without the imagination to see the glory of homemadeness can't say you could buy a loaf of bread for less than the cost of that yarn. Well you know what I mean!
Bread making (like all of life you might say) is quite like knitting really. It's definitely feeding that basic need in me to MAKE. After another day at work of emails and conversations and nothing I can put my hands or eyes on and simply feel the pleasure of having created I know for sure that all these makey things are part of my elaborate balancing act.
I felt the flickers of an old impetus and I cast on some socks just before the Christmas break began and have been cosied up with them whenever possible. They are so delicious. I had to get my Sensational Knitted Socks out to have a clue where to start. I thought I might be in trouble when I need to look up what SSK meant but my hands remembered the long tail cast on, the needles sit just right in my hands and it is so pleasing to watch it grow. Top down, my old favourite construction, there is a rhythm here that is deeply satisfying.
I'd forgotten the comments and conversations that knitting socks in particular seem to draw. Can you make me some? (Mostly no, only the most beloveds get hand knits). How long will they take? Followed up by "HOW LONG? and then one of the classics - "You do know you can get a five pack from xxx (insert their favourite shop) for just £x" (always good to know what people spend on socks!) It's an insight in to how fixated so many peo…