a day full of januaries
It's supposed to be a knitting blog, I know. But the lovely thing about having no readers is that it doesn't matter if I stray from knitting for an existential soliloquy. I have a few new pictures to post, but they are stored on my laptop and our network is not working.
A long day full of work. I went in at 6:30 a.m., worked until 5, went home, ate something, kissed B and had a small sleepy-nap, and returned to work from 7-9 p.m. Since I also had a LARGE latte at 7 p.m., I find myself buzzing with that ultratiredness/caffeinated combination. Since my hand hurts from battling/frogging the short-row heel four times yesterday (the damn instructions are just WRONG, I decided, since Ms. "Che Guevera" Wulster says to slide the heel onto the cable when it's still on the left-hand needle and thus not at all in the sliding position), I decided to wind down by reading knitting blogs instead of knitting.
I love knitters. Just browing the PNW blogs tonight, I find that many of us share fears, frustrations, and frailties, and today, that helps. If that sounds like a january statement, it is. I always get a wee bit blue and jumpy in january. Perhaps seasonal--right now it's pouring rain like an open fire hydrant outside, and it has been for 20-something straight days, with no end in sight. It's definitely existential, our family virus: time is ticking, and look at all that I didn't accomplish last year. Will this be another year of failed intentions? (somehow I always forget in that question how much I did accomplish)
I came home on Friday in a right good funk, and B, who is patient and loving and nevertheless hates the januaries, listened for a bit. These days I am fortunately pretty good about talking myself down out of the tree when I get going--I do what I've recommended to clients, I stop the circling thought and remind myself of its distortions, of how much I did accomplish. I allow myself to just be as sad and fearful as I need to be in the moment, and the moment passes. It helps so much to acknowledge that this is both the dying of the old year and the birth of the yet unknown new year, a fallow time, a time of darkness and possibility at the same moment. There are losses to grieve, hopes that hang by a thread, disappointments. But I began last year to feel in one small corner of my heart that I am enough, that my pace is enough if I just keep trying, just keep moving. I want to reclaim that feeling, and I am grateful for the way the januaries remind me of what's important. And, this morning as I got ready to go to work, I rememered the Carbon Leaf lyrics: "Pace yourself when outrunning fear/take cover when it's dark/and keep an even keel." In other words, take care of the baby.
A long day full of work. I went in at 6:30 a.m., worked until 5, went home, ate something, kissed B and had a small sleepy-nap, and returned to work from 7-9 p.m. Since I also had a LARGE latte at 7 p.m., I find myself buzzing with that ultratiredness/caffeinated combination. Since my hand hurts from battling/frogging the short-row heel four times yesterday (the damn instructions are just WRONG, I decided, since Ms. "Che Guevera" Wulster says to slide the heel onto the cable when it's still on the left-hand needle and thus not at all in the sliding position), I decided to wind down by reading knitting blogs instead of knitting.
I love knitters. Just browing the PNW blogs tonight, I find that many of us share fears, frustrations, and frailties, and today, that helps. If that sounds like a january statement, it is. I always get a wee bit blue and jumpy in january. Perhaps seasonal--right now it's pouring rain like an open fire hydrant outside, and it has been for 20-something straight days, with no end in sight. It's definitely existential, our family virus: time is ticking, and look at all that I didn't accomplish last year. Will this be another year of failed intentions? (somehow I always forget in that question how much I did accomplish)
I came home on Friday in a right good funk, and B, who is patient and loving and nevertheless hates the januaries, listened for a bit. These days I am fortunately pretty good about talking myself down out of the tree when I get going--I do what I've recommended to clients, I stop the circling thought and remind myself of its distortions, of how much I did accomplish. I allow myself to just be as sad and fearful as I need to be in the moment, and the moment passes. It helps so much to acknowledge that this is both the dying of the old year and the birth of the yet unknown new year, a fallow time, a time of darkness and possibility at the same moment. There are losses to grieve, hopes that hang by a thread, disappointments. But I began last year to feel in one small corner of my heart that I am enough, that my pace is enough if I just keep trying, just keep moving. I want to reclaim that feeling, and I am grateful for the way the januaries remind me of what's important. And, this morning as I got ready to go to work, I rememered the Carbon Leaf lyrics: "Pace yourself when outrunning fear/take cover when it's dark/and keep an even keel." In other words, take care of the baby.
posted by nann at 9:47 PM
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