In my experience, there are two sides to the One-Day-I-Will-Knit-Project-X coin. On
the one side, there is the joy of perpetual potential.
You can sit and imagine a million projects, fantasize working them from the
moment of getting going (buying yarn, selecting
a pattern, getting the right needles) to the moment of completion (you’re onstage, accepting some Lifetime
Knitting Achievement Award, decked out in this amazing Project X). Even if
you never knit half of them, or one-tenth of them, this frame of mind provides
lots of happy fantasies.
On the other side of the coin… If I imagine
Project X and all of the many projects I want
to do vs. how many I can actually
manage in a lifetime, and then factor in all the patterns that are yet to be
designed, the ones I will also want to knit… well that train of thought isn’t
exactly conducive to relaxing now, is it? And a big reason I took up knitting
was to help me relax.
Fortunately, I don’t spend a whole lot of time
contemplating either side of the coin. Mostly, I just happily focus on the
project at hand—Zen and the Art of Knitting in the Moment. Once in awhile
though, an opportunity arises that allows me to let my knitting mind whip
around in a million different directions, and get deliriously giddy as I imagine,
to my heart’s content, all things knitting. My annual treks to Monhegan Island
for the Knitting and Yoga Adventures retreat is one such opportunity.
I make other opportunities during the year, too.
For instance… I am typing this report in a small hunter’s cabin on the remote
side of a bison ranch in Texas. Really. As in give me a home, where the buffalo roam... What actually brought me here is a
two-week writing residency—the ranch owners are kind enough to provide quiet,
delicious isolation for artists to spend time purely focused on their work. But
after several hours of writing, it’s time to knock-off for the day.
By knock-off, of course I mean set down the
manuscript I’m revising and immerse myself in all things knitting. I brought
along a bunch of knitting books, a half-finished sock, a reasonable amount of
yarn and all of my needles. I alternate
between my keyboard, my DPs, my circulars, and my anniversary edition of Elizabeth
Zimmermann’s KNITTER’S ALMANAC,
eyeing the Pi Shawl, which she suggests for a July project. (Just July, I think? Hahaha. I’m pretty
sure a Pi Shawl would take me four years.)
I am so lucky that my writing and teaching have
taken me to amazing places, designed for retreating and relaxing: Monhegan
Island, Lake Austin Spa, and now this buffalo ranch. Sometimes, as I set off to
one place or another, I worry that I can’t really afford to break away—the dogs
will miss me, my business will suffer, I’ll return to a massive pile of work. But
I am reminded, again and again, that not only is the break worth it, in and of
itself, the break has the added bonus of recharging my batteries, and leaving me much happier. That’s
due partly to going someplace where my phone doesn’t work and the Internet is
spotty. But it’s also due to taking time to fully indulge my passion, the way I
can only fantasize about doing the rest of the year when I am up to my ears in the
happy chaos of my regular life.
So take it from me—schedule a retreat every year. Heck, schedule three. But if you really can’t get away for a long stretch, then at least pick a few weekends and dedicate them to pure knit indulgence—phone off, computer off, non-knitters sent away. Just you, your projects, your knitting friends, a ton of good food, and a few days to relax into it. I promise, these breaks make the rest of life that much more sparkling and delightful.
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