When I first met Shelli Martinez she was
knitting a pair of sweat pants. Knitting them.
I was incredulous. “Is there actually
a pattern for knit sweatpants?”
Well, no, it turned out, unless I was talking about the pattern she made on graph paper after taking apart a pair of her favorite jeans to see how they were constructed.
I remember thinking,
“I have so much to learn
from this fearlessly creative woman.”
A year + into 45’s reign of chaos. There have been so many outrages, so many reversals of policies that had made America an admired and respected country. So much lying and graft, so much collusion and racism. So many reasons to march, to resist, to protest, to make our outraged voices heard. I’m exhausted by the tsunami of 45’s draconian rule. But now, there has been another school shooting by a teenager with a semiautomatic AR-15 rifle, leaving 17 dead and many wounded. I feel called to action. Continue reading “A Call to Craftivist Action”→
I have never liked arithmetic. That, and actual numbers and the awful, cold formulaic logic of numbers. Maybe I don’t like them because I’m a total failure at using them. When I first took the math SAT, my score was so low that I was asked to do it over. My score didn’t improve much on the second take. Continue reading “Undone by Numbers”→
You may have noticed how I haven’t been posting on this blog for over a half a year. I’ve missed having the opportunity to examine how Making Things brings us happiness, peace, and a strong sense of self.
Since my mother’s descent into dementia began seven months ago, I have taken leave of my old, busy, fully-occupied life as a student of the psychological and spiritual benefits of Making Things. Continue reading “Stitch by Stitch”→
Just after Christmas, my 91-year old mother collapsed and disappeared into the fog of dementia, suddenly unreachable despite her body being still alive, and still here. And I began a long, slow submersion into grief that seemed, at times, to be dragging me down into the darkness where my mother had gone. Because she was alive, it seemed completely wrong to mourn for my missing mother. Continue reading “Losing Mom; Knitting Through Grief”→
“Look! I finished it,” says Emelie sitting up in bed, holding up her first knit baby hat for the baby she’s carrying. She’s beaming, her face alight with wonder, pride and happiness. “I’m going to teach everyone at my church to knit!” Continue reading “Teaching and Sharing Knitting”→
Such a sense of peace that descends on me as I watch, over and over, the colorful strands of yarn slipping from one needle to the other, twisting into shapes before my eyes. Time slides away, along with anxiety and stress. Continue reading “Handwork: Knitting and Comfort”→