I never was so disappointed in myself then I was 30 minutes ago when I sat down to write what I believed in, and drew a blank. Images of love, family, world peace: all these I know are important to me, but they’re not what drives me to get up in the morning and live day by day. When I gave up on trying to identify what I knew should come so easily, I reached into my old backpack hanging in my closet and pulled out my yard and knitting needle.
I believe in knitting, a simple hobby that I don’t even do well, but an act that separates my mind from body, an act that takes a rhythmic movement that my hands respond so naturally to, an act of watching yarn take shape, becoming something that not only I will someday wear, but even an article of clothing that may warm a loved ones neck. Like the red scarves that I make once a year in honor of my grandma, she loved the color red. Or the boxes I fill at the Goodwill with assorted scarves of all colors and sizes at Christmas time.
I believe in knitting, being able to lounge around in old sweat pants without feeling judged, being able to watch Lifetime for Woman movies feeling powerful and ambitious to prove something of myself, being able to witness the act of two, or even three colors blend together and become stronger from it. Just like how I always start off each knitting night with a handful of Hershey kisses on my tummy and a glass of orange juice in between my legs. I even prop pillows underneath my elbows just so my arms wont get tired so easily. Or that I even know that it takes at least four episodes of Golden Girls just to finish a five-foot scarf.
I believe in knitting, feeling a sense of relaxation even with such tedious movements, feeling powerful as if creating a scarf is the steppingstone to what I can accomplish in the world, feeling separated from all the chaos outside my door, down the street and through the world. I’ve always considered knitting my personal therapy. Getting lost in such a thoughtless hobby has been my only escape from my active mind over the years. I love the feeling of being an elder, I can’t wait to be 60 years old, rocking in my high chair looking back on all the struggles I went through, and how it was all worth it. Those are the types of fantasies I have while knitting, I sometimes like to imagine I’m 19 going on 70.
I believe in knitting, knowing I don’t need to voice my opinions for at least one hour in my day, knowing I have at least one hour to let go of all frustrations and knowing I’m nothing but a teenager relaxing in my room — just for that one hour.
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