I’m often not certain if I feel things as deeply as other people describe. I feel too rational and too practical. Don’t get me wrong, I love and fear and laugh and all of the good and bad. I guess I’m just insecure about if it’s enough.
Sometimes I don’t have the words or the actions or the perfect pretty whatever it’s supposed to be. I ogle the picture perfect events on pinterest and while I adore them, I can admit to myself that I’ll never care quite enough to put the effort in to get those pretty, pretty pictures. Again, the enough word.
Instead, I channel those feelings and all that time, effort, energy, and caring into my knitting. With each stitch, I think: may you know your atman, may you be loved, may you love, laugh, enjoy, you are safe, you are loved.
It’s as if I can wrap my heart and love around you with every sweater and blanket and hat I’ve made.
When I was pregnant, I knit. I knit in meetings. I knit on transit. I knit at home. Round and round. Back and forth. It soothed my soul. In fact, I knit so much that my friends banned me from knitting more baby sweaters.
I’m a worrier and a realist, and there was a teeny part of me that was afraid that I’d be the woman who died in childbirth (it does happen!). It isn’t likely, but it is always a possibility.
I was afraid that if something did happen that my child wouldn’t know how much I loved them. So I knit. Because every little sweater is tangible proof of how much I do love my son. I wanted to make sure that there was a legacy, just in case, so that he could never doubt that he was and is loved.
And when items are knit with hand spun yarn as well? Well, I just consider that a whole extra layer of love.