Knitter Twitter: Purling my way to anxiety

I have to admit that exactly this time last year, I took it upon myself to knit my husband a holiday sweater, which I imagined he’d find under the Christmas Tree and would be taken aback (tear in his eyes,) by my labor of love. Well, it didn’t go according to plan at all. I did the front panel, and by the time I reached some rather difficult shoulder shaping on the back panel, it had got dangerously close to December 25th. Given that it was to be a surprise (the only surprise,) I’d planned, I had to sneak in every secret moment I could to add a couple more rows. I spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom – even hid in my closet, but sadly had to abandon the whole thing when my in-laws arrived – way too much going on!

So this rather beautiful fair-trade basket, which I’d bought when knitting fever had taken hold, full of balls of very expensive black Alpaca yarn, stood guilt-tripping me in my living room all this year until I stuffed it into the back of a closet hoping that out of sight it would remain out of mind. The other day Lola was rummaging around in my closet, probably indulging in a rather alarming recent habit of trying on mommy’s clothes which, “pretty much fit me now” she maintains when she unearthed the basket. She waved it in front of me, “Mommy, you always tell me to complete a project before moving on,” she chirped. Okay, watch this space!!!

This afternoon had me schlepping over to the most wonderful knitting store, La Knitterie Parisienne. The legendary owner Edith Eig, author of “Mother of Purl” (a fantastic knitting book,) presided over a large table piled high with knitting projects. About 8 women squished themselves in around the table and were gossiping away like twittering birds. They clearly knew each other very well, so I felt like the new school girl in the yard, who wasn’t altogether that welcome.

Like trying to get a drink at a crowded bar, I managed to squeeze in near Edith and proffered my basket with its sorry half-baked sweater, “I’m totally lost with this Edith, and I need your help like desperately!” Despite the fact that Edith had piles of projects waiting for her attention, and despite the fact that she had a stone-cold bowl of soup sitting in front of her (she apparently doesn’t have time to eat!), dear Edith had a good look at my attempt and kindly suggested I “Rip it.” Not fully understanding what she meant, I asked for clarification, fearing the worst. OMG – all those midnight hours in the bathroom a year ago – in that dimly lit closet, and I have to unravel the whole darn thing!

I managed to squeeze in at the table and start my work, while Edith kindly hand wrote out a brand new pattern for me because I’d lost the original one. More women arrived and the second row of fold-out chairs formed around the table.  I began to feel almost part of the group, as advice and holiday cookies were shared around the table.

As I sat and listened, I was struck by the fact that here was a community of women who needed to get together for a purpose other than knitting: here was a fellowship of ladies who shared everything that was going on with them – from petty irritations to life-changing traumas, this was a place of healing. One lady’s husband was undergoing intensive chemo and radiation: we heard how he couldn’t swallow because he was in so much pain – we listened. An about-to-drop pregnant lady came in and we got chapter and verse on her delivery date and upcoming birth – we listened. A young mom with her teenage daughter joined the table. She was beautifully bald and when she told the group that the surgeon had told her that he could indeed perform a lumpectomy, everyone cheered.

As more women joined and a third row formed in the now horribly-cramped room, the tales of trauma and joy were intermingled with great gossip. All the Housewives of Beverly Hills were raked over the coals, as were certain “Dancing With The Stars” contestants. The only women who didn’t join in was a bee-keeper, who admitted that she had never, nor would ever, watch a reality TV show – she wasn’t judging anyone, she just stated it as a matter of fact, which everyone accepted and then moved on to The Housewives of Atlanta.

It felt good to be part of this group. Like an old-fashioned sewing circle, there wasn’t one Blackberry or smartphone in sight. I’m sure everyone had one, but no one felt the need to text, tweet, or check their Facebook because human contact was more important. In this day and age, when texting is on the rise in the 40 plus age group, it seems that most of the time we can’t be bothered to go through the small talk and chit-chat on the phone – easier to avoid having to talk and send a one-liner instead.

Although emailing and texting is hugely convenient, and it’s my preferred method of daily communication 90% of the time, there’s the listening component that missing. Sometimes we just need to be heard and no matter how many great email-writing friends you have, looking into a pair of understanding eyes is irreplaceable.

The other thing I noticed that travel around this knitting circle, were words and acts of extreme kindness. Aside from the listening, kind words were offered around, sweeter than the chocolate truffles that a young girl shared around the table too. It occurred to me that yes, we can and do take on the enormous global issues facing us as a society, be they environmental, judicial or political, but the greatest change almost always starts with small acts in our own homes. We cannot change the world without changing ourselves, and this knitting circle showed me that most of these women were taking care of their immediate environment – the women who lived and breathed among them. One act of kindness truly makes a great difference, as does one act towards caring for this planet. The two are one of the same.

As I left the store with my new pattern and re-wound balls of yarn, I checked out their impressive selection of eco-friendly yarns: gorgeous organic wools, cottons, and deliciously soft un-dyed bamboo. Okay – knitting fever is back on. I’ll keep you posted on the sweater and if I manage to finish it before December 25th, I’ll take a photograph of my smiling husband in it, which I promise to post right here.

Phew – do you knit?