Evening summer breeze refreshes here in the Great White North, and last night, as I knitted and rocked to the sound of bird calls, I looked down and spotted it – the dreaded hole. A hole is a hole, no matter how great or how small. Once a stitch is dropped, growth potential is endless, and the source of the problem must be addressed.
So, I popped the needles out from rows of 211 stitches, and I gingerly pulled, and I pulled, and I pulled. A strong tug means hundreds of more stitches to remove and rework. Now to tear down stitches and reknit is part of the process, and an important part of the process. My knitting history embodies every bit as many mistake stories as ones of success. In fact, some of my most gruesome mistakes produced knowledge that brought some of my most proud accomplishments.
In knitting, I challenged myself and early on, took on projects that were far above my ability level. To fail at a challenging task is to learn and increase skills. If I could only return skeins of yarn or get new yarn credit for stitches torn down – row after row.
In early spring, I found a pattern for a summery lacy vest. I really liked the pattern, so I splurged and bought the good yarn to complete the project. As with any lace inserts, reading the pattern and working it can be very tricky. This pattern has the knitter start from the bottom of the sweater and work toward the top. I did and followed the directions to a T, even though they did not sound right. I read and reread, and in the end, I trusted the experts and forged ahead with my needles every evening for a couple hours and about two weeks.
After trusting the confusing pattern and going against my instincts, I held up the front to the back at completion, and sure enough, what I expected came to fruition. The two did not match and the front was about three inches shorter than the back. Finished – and with the expensive yarn. Drat! I took the whole project to a local yarn shop and we sat at a table and poured over the instructions until we found the published mistake. Double Drat!
After a couple hours of figuring out a solution without scrapping the entire project, I carefully picked out the stitches one by one – backward – requiring much greater finesse than the aforementioned tear-down method. To make a long story even longer, my solution worked and I have a completed garment that I have yet to wear – but that is another story.
Mistakes do not define us, they help us grow. In my early days of teaching myself to knit from the Internet and before YouTube, if I had thrown my needles through my living room window as I so many times felt like doing, I would not have the cathartic and healing practice that gives me so much relaxation and peace.
I do not take on this fearless attitude toward mistakes in other areas of my life and wish I did. I am one who can approach new ideas and change with fear. I would like to tackle changes in my life with the same courageous approach that I do working with needles and fiber. So what if it does not work out and I mess it up? I will just rip it out and either start over, or take on another project. This line of thinking would serve me well in many areas of life where conquering fear of failure can be a springboard for growth.
In one of my latest projects, I started making teddy bears. Naturally, the book has three levels of teddy bears and I chose the most complex – I don’t even like it the best, but it is the most challenging, so I had to make it. I figured I could go back and make an easier one later. On our recent trip to Boston, the pictured bear was my car project. Note the legs. There are two, but I actually made four. See the head? Let’s not even talk about the mess-up in knitting the head pieces, but here she is, a cute teddy with the mistakes forgotten.
Yes, I will work on applying that philosophy to my life, and I know at the end of the day I have not only my rocking chair and summer breeze for recovery, but a yellow-dressed bear as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment