Fingers itch with impatience from palms to fingertips. Yearning for fibers to flow once again from a pile into art. Needles click as stitches stretch from needle to needle then drape across my lap. Creating has always been my lifeblood; a hook, needles, and a ball of yarn are my medium.
Living in a digital world is thrilling to be sure, but exhausting as well. I know the little “zing” of an email on my iPhone all too well. Those wiser than me have always advised (and scolded) me to recharge my batteries. Not my MacBook or tablet no, but my internal batteries. When checking my Instagram becomes more natural to me than remembering to drink water, it is a telltale sign that I am at less than 20% power mentally.
At first my go-to recharges were any millennials' usual: YouTube, Netflix, or whatever blogger I was interested in at the moment. The digital and intangible world of creation was the only one I was familiar with for quite sometime. Honestly, I still may not have known what a seed stitch is or what “blocking” meant until I met my mother-in-law.
One of the most genuine, beautiful, and creative women I know, my mother-in-law dazzled my mind and left my mouth ajar as she showed me her extraordinary knitting talent. She welcomed me to the fiber world with open arms, and when I returned to my dorm room that evening, I pulled out my old knitting needles holding miles and miles of simple garter stitch knitting, and started to dabble and play in this needlework wonder.
Once I became familiar and comfortable with the movements again, I found myself wanting to knit instead of playing on the Internet. I wanted to watch new stitch videos instead of Buzzfeed videos on YouTube. My favorite social media platform became Ravelry, which was the gateway drug to my fiber addiction.
Fair isle, cables, and intarsia, I drank all the knitting magnificence like a deprived artist. When I found myself sitting in a waiting room my hands went for my knitting project in my bag surpassing my iPhone. I started having more authentic conversations with people, whether friends or strangers, over my knitting.
I loved the questions I would be asked: “What are you making?” “Is that crochet?” “Who taught you how to knit?” “How do you do that?” “Why don’t you just buy a scarf?” and “Why are you knitting?” I truly enjoyed every question that I was presented with because that meant I was bringing a craft and artful out of the stereotypes and into the public sector.
I have received many peculiar looks as a 23-year-old woman never seen without a project on her. So many of the fiber arts have been written off as a “woman’s craft” not present in public or for anyone other than an older, heterosexual, cis-gender female. I love that I can challenge that stereotype and force a notable craft and art form into the public sector.
Van Gogh’s soul resided in paints and brushes and mine resides in yarns and needles. No one art form is better than another. Just as we are all individual and unique so are the media of expression and beauty.
I encourage you all to put down the Internet for a few moments and lose yourself in something tangible: a nature hike, woodcarving, coloring, writing, crochet, reading a book for pleasure, and many more activities that do not require a screen or Wi-Fi. Unplugging from the overwhelmingness of the world is mentally and physically healthy.
Who would have guessed that a communication studies major would have found one of her passions in a ball of yarn? When I knit, the world softens and slows down. Breathing more easily I can subconsciously break down all of my worries, problems, and concerns into simple stitches. I weave the fiber from the back around to the front, and glide it through the window, and suddenly I have finished another row, and I’ve figured out how to write that industry solution article at work.
Knitting embodies so much more to me than fabricating garments. Knitting and crochet calms my soul and mind wherever I am. The tangibleness of the knitted fabric serves as a mental reminder that all my hard work is not worthless or going unnoticed. As a young professional, I have to be reminded of that.
So please, if you see me knitting or crocheting in public, please come over and ask me any question you’d like about my craft—I will be delighted to speak with you with my passion and enthusiasm for knitting laced through my voice—right after I finish this row!
This blog is my open diary to anyone and everyone about my life and my crafts. Life can be difficult, but it's always beautiful, and I want to share that love of life and making.