Just keep swimmin’
I completed a mobile recently that was in my head for months.
Apart from someone somewhere getting an adorable piece of art, these pieces come with a purpose for me and I never quite know what it is until I’m on the knit move.
Sometimes the purpose ends up being to remember what my brain can do, or remember what my hands can do, or remember how simple things can be, or remember how details matter, or remember that I know more than I think, or remember that I know less than I think, or to remember to stop, or to focus, or to feel, or to simply just be.
The purpose ends up being whatever I’m seeking at the time, or more accurately, whatever I’m lacking at the time.
Knit art is where my brain gets to make a dream a reality.
I mean, isn’t that kinda magical?
I think it would be silly to think that doesn’t carry over into other aspects of life, to think that thought process didn’t have anything to do with the course my life has taken.
Each knit creation I make contains pieces of my heart and soul within its stitches. As I spend countless hours knitting and contemplating how it will come to exist, my brain gets the opportunity to simply be, with the purpose of creation.
Art can say things words just can’t.
You can search for perfect words, but if you’re searching, it’s likely not words that ya need.
Don’t get me wrong, words can be magic; they can bring you places, they can teach you things, they can be their own art, and they can be a tool of creation, connection or destruction, depending on what you choose.
Feelings bring our perfectionism to a weird height tho, eh? We really raise our “perfection” expectations when we have a feeling running amuck.
We so often wait to share how we feel because we think it needs to be perfect; we think there needs to be a perfect time, or a perfect place, or a perfect delivery, but there is no perfect time, there is no perfect place, and there is definitely no perfect delivery. It feels like a trick, doesn’t it? As if for ‘some reason’ someone somewhere wants us to keep our beautiful, messy, amazing, feeling selves hidden.
From what? From who? And why? What would happen if we just existed in our imperfections? How fun would that chaotic beauty be.
So on that note, I say be messy, own your feelings, HEAL your feelings, say the ‘wrong’ thing if it leads you to the right thing, and allow yourself the freedom and grace to figure it out as you go.
*whisper * None of us know what we’re doing…