I didn't post on Sunday like I normally do because I spent all day writing this essay and frankly I was really done writing. That night I dreamed that I got a job at the yarn shop I used to work at (that tipped my life upside down, and not in a very pleasant way). I'm really glad I don't work there anymore, seeing it in my dream was bad enough. Anyway, enjoy my little paper on Knitting.
Startitis. It’s not a made-up disease; it’s a knitter’s ailment. No one quite knows what causes it. Some knitters get it on pay day, some get it on vacation, some get it when their lives are overwhelming, and some seem to get it completely at random.
Startitis is the overwhelming desire to start a new knitting project regardless of the number of projects currently on the needles. I, personally, tend to get it when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I know it seems counterintuitive to think that starting something new would make life less overwhelming, but it’s not just the starting, it’s having the end in sight, right from the beginning. And of course there is something about making a pretty thing out of nothing, or nearly nothing, that is just good for the soul. Making pretty things can pull you out of seemingly any rut you have gotten yourself into. Starting a new knitting project can make everything seem better.
Knitting in and of itself can be very therapeutic. The repetitive motion that it requires can help people work through trauma and stress. Studies have shown that knitting has a similar effect on the brain as repeating a mantra or prayer. But the real story lies deeper than that. It’s the act of creation that is important.
When you start a knitting project, you start with yarn and needles and sometimes a pattern. You have these three simple ingredients and with nothing but your wits and your skill you create something beautiful, hopeful, inspiring, practical, whimsical, new. This is the most simple and powerful magic.
Starting a project starts well before the yarn and needles are in your hands. First you have to decide what you will make. There are different ways to go about this. Sometimes there is a particular technique you want to use, for example you might be craving your cable needle, or you might feel the need to work with two colors, or maybe you just want something simple that requires almost no technique whatsoever. Other times you might really want to make a particular item. Even in the dog days of summer you might get a sudden craving to make a hat, or a pair of mittens. Sometimes it can feel like it’s not entirely up to you, sometimes it feels as though the project is picking you, rather than the other way around.
Last year I found myself making hat after hat. It had nothing to do with need (even in Minnesota a person can only use so many hats) and there wasn’t anyone in particular in my life who needed hats. I just needed to make hats. I think there are several explanations for this. First of all, hats are small, they are manageable projects, the end is in sight from the moment you begin. Second of all, the structure of a hat is, to me, very predictable, and when your life is feeling unpredictable it’s nice to have something constant in it. Third of all, and maybe most importantly, they afford a simple avenue for self-expression and creativity.
One of the great things about hats is that they can range from simple (as a new knitter my second project was a hat) to very complicated, requiring charts and graphs and unusual techniques. There are lots of decisions to be made before you even start a hat. What kind of brim would you like? (Ribbed? Rolled? Earflaps?) What kind of pattern would you like on the body of the hat itself? (Cables? Stripes? Fairisle? No pattern at all?) What kind of crown would you like? (pointed or flat?) What color(s)? How warm would you like it to be? (is it a summer hat? Or a winter hat?)
Despite the variety in hats, the underlying structure tends to be predictable. Generally you start at the brim and work your way up, eventually decreasing for the crown. This lends a sense of stability and familiarity, but leaves room for self-expression.
Self-expression is key for growth and self-discovery. There is no doubt that art can be very therapeutic, but sometimes making art can seem overwhelming to me, too much freedom. I get lost on the paper, my thoughts won’t come together, and I am left sitting with a crayon in my hand and a blank sheet of paper wondering where to even begin. With a knitting project I know where to begin; it’s a familiar path.
One of the nice things about hats as knitting projects is that they are manageable. They are a small enough project that I can think it through, start to finish all at once. When your life is in transition, when you are leaving your old life behind, and moving forward, into a new future which is open ended and unknown and maybe not as meticulously planned out as you are accustomed to, it’s nice to have something predictable and small, something you can see the beginning, middle and end of. When things seem unmanageable in my life (like they did so often last year) having something manageable, like a knitting project, is infinitely comforting.
