Last fall I learned to crochet. Okay, I learned two stitches and call it crocheting. I learned two stitches that aren’t really even a part of any pattern, they are just two stitches.
Two stitches that I love.
Two stitches that have proven a meditation through the last 5 months.
Last December I decided to try my hand at actually making something. Making something with no pattern and with just two stitches… but making something all the same. I believed that I had mastered these stitches to some extent and now, well, now I would like to sit and pass the time actually making a blanket.
And I started one using yarn that was around the house.
And I didn’t finish it because Santa Claws brought loads and loads of new colorful yarn to our house for Christmas. He knew that I wanted to crochet a crazy blanket full of light and color. I wanted to work on something that was warm and full of life.
And so, I started my crazy blanket. It is not a pattern. It is not all about one color or two. It is about lots of different yarns and variations and… it is a reflection of life I suppose in that it is not quite what one expects in a blanket, it doesn’t quite flow in color or texture, but it works.
The other evening, as I sat crocheting and allowing my thoughts to drift and my body to relax, I caught myself smiling. The image of a woman knitting – putting into stitches her thoughts and the history of events. I found myself thinking of Madame Defarge from the Tale of Two Cities.
Though I am not Madame Defarge in any sense of the character, I too have spent the last months stitching my thoughts and emotions into something larger. Each stitch, each row, each undone and redone element – this blanket contains the essence of the challenges and experiences of the last few months.
Throughout the last few months, my hook and blanket and I have become fixtures in various lobbies. I wait for my daughter. I crochet. I meditate. I find myself that much closer to a sense of peace.
In the past few months, I have moved from Alice in Wonderland traveling through the rabbit hole into a fantasy world, to an image of Madame Defarge endlessly and tirelessly knitting history into her stitches, to… me!