Last week, I lost my knitting mojo. I’m not sure if it’s because I was sick all week, or because I’ve been a little stressed at work. I’m usually pretty dauntless when it comes to trying new things, but the challenges I had with my Overby sweater, and argyle socks left my confidence as a knitter a little dented.
Usually when I finish I project, I know exactly what I want to make. Inevitably, there is something I just can’t wait to make. Most of the time, the only challenge is narrowing all of my ideas down. This week, however, I made three half hearted runs at Skew socks, but ended up frogging them. (I’ll try again this summer, when I have the stamina to concentrate on all those directional increases, which are currently my knitting kryptonite). After giving up, I couldn’t think of a single thing to cast-on.
I looked through my ravelry queue, browsed all of the knitting blogs I follow, and pawed through my stash, but remained uninispired. And then I found this:
my first ever knitting project, cast-on on my grandmother’s couch two decades ago. It’s just a rectangle of garter stitch in scrap yarn, cast-on for no particular reason, other than to knit it. To engage in the process. To let my fingers repeat and master a simple movement. To spend some time with my grandma.
So I did something unusual. I cast on a pair of simple garter stitch socks. It’s a pattern I’ve made countless times, and frankly a little boring. I usually knit because I want to wear or give the project. I mostly choose projects, because they will challenge me to pick up or develop a new skill, but these socks couldn’t be easier, and I have no recipient in mind for them. I’m just really enjoying the process. The reassuring repetition has calmed my unquiet mind. My frustrated fingers are finding their confidence again in this familiar task, and I’m being reminded of knitting’s most significant gift: peace of mind.