The Art of Knitting

Magic, that’s what it is. When I pick up my knitting needles that is the key to unlocking the sorcerer in me and different places of my own creation. The trick is in the yarn, that is the location. The colors, textures, intertwining into one as my needles lock them into place, any place I desire. The knitting needles are a portal to a different realm, a completely different reality.

It starts off with a single knot, worked in and out to create a set. The road for the destination is paved, but how long do I want this journey of spiritual awakening to last? 10 steps? 50? a 100? Ultimately, it is not me who gets to decide, but my favorite part of me: my hands— mechanically moving, although slightly struggling at first. If they are angry, they knit tightly. If they are serene, they do so loosely. Five minutes go by, my hands are adjusting to the rhythm. They are getting accustomed to the yarn; they are getting to know their partner. Does their partner comply to their wishes? Or does their partner have a mind of its own? There are always too many questions that need answering, however, the thing that separates the yarn world from the real world is the knowledge that eventually, whether today or two weeks from today, those questions will be answered. It’s time to knit, take the stitch, insert your needle behind its split, wrap your location around the key to the destination, catch the yarn, and slip.

An hour has passed, your hands are mimicking a machine. There is a rhythm to the way you are moving, as though you are the puppeteer, and the needles and yarn are your puppets: meeting your every demand. You are the voyager sailing your own ship. You are choosing your destination: up, down, side to side, pave these two steps together, do them apart, that is the choice you get to make. It’s time to knit, take the stitch, insert your needle behind its split, wrap your location around the key to the destination, catch the yarn, and slip.

It’s the second hour in and you are now a fully automated machine. You cannot think, sleep, eat, speak. You cannot do anything unless your knitting needles tell you to do so. You have no mind of your own, your mind is under the full control of the yarn. You are now hypnotized, the only thing you see is colors, tunneling in and out of your vision. Wrapping in and out of the needle, creating a hypnotic field, putting you in a complete trance. The only knowledge your brain knows is none... none at all. The needles have erased all of your memories. Who you are and who you have been have ceased to exist. It’s time to knit, take the stitch, insert your needle behind its split, wrap your location around the key to the destination, catch the yarn, and slip.

It has been days since you last ate, but you wouldn’t know. It has been days since you last moved, but you wouldn’t know, how could you? You are nothing more than string, composed of many different colors, beautiful, yet completely oblivious to the world. You have no idea when or how this has come to be, but you are falling down a tunnel of colors... wrapped in and out, pushed side to side, inside, outside you go. There you have it; the yarn is now knitting you. It’s time to knit, take the stitch, insert your needle behind its split, wrap your location around the key to the destination, catch the yarn, and slip sings the yarn.

You now have a finished project; it is truly mesmerizing. There is a silence in the air as everything around you comes into focus. You look out your window and realize that snow is now covering the bright green, spring grass that has inspired you to start your piece in the first place. You are stunned as you think of how you absolutely must knit yourself a big, warm scarf. It’s time to knit, take the stitch, insert your needle behind its split, wrap your location around the key to the destination, catch the yarn, and slip sings the yarn.