That’s it. Really. Our one resolution. To knit. More. Everything. Anything.
2020. Can we say anything about it that hasn’t already been said, in a more poetic/snarky/neatly-packaged way? The simple truth: the year took us to our knees. And our (collective) knitting mojo completely dried up. Somehow Liz managed to knock out three sample sweaters (her Cedar Pullover, Party of Five and her golden Ginn), but other than that, she hasn’t knit a stitch. I’ve half-heartedly banged out a few rows–finished two Oslo hats and a Sunset Slouch–but for Professional Knitters (okay, Enablers!) three hats and three sweaters between two people isn’t much to show for a year. We’ve talked about this a lot in our Comfort and Joy series, but the year hasn’t left us with a lot of time–or motivation–to knit.
It’s okay. It is. After 20 years (!) in downtown Cedar, the shop has been busier than it ever has been. EVER. And for that, we are supremely, undeniably, unbelievably grateful. We have kept Makers in wool during the times when y’all have needed it most. (Even if you’re still in the stashing stage–don’t feel bad. We are, too.) We’re also part-to-full-time e-learning teachers during the weekdays; turns out being teachers AND business owners during a global pandemic really cuts into your making time.
But it won’t always be like this. One day–when it’s safe–our children will go back to school. We will catch up, we will plan, we will establish new routines. With the bustle of the latest holiday season behind us, we’ve been feeling like we’re seeing what winter is going to look like….and it looks good. There’s room in there for restoration, for quiet, for peace, for reading, for walking, for cooking, for knitting, and really, what else is there?
Hard truth: we don’t subscribe to the notion that 2021 is going to be better. The calendar page isn’t going to flip over tomorrow, and suddenly, we’ll be back on our feet, running toward the light. It’s going to be more of a slow crawl on our knees, making our way toward the mirage in the desert.
We’re still navigating a global pandemic. Black lives still matter. USPS is still in crisis. We’re still lonely. We’re still tired. We’re still reinventing ourselves, every moment of every day. Our friends are depressed and overworked, the systems are racist and broken, neighbors and strangers and family members will get sick and they will die.
But. We know. We know the things we’ve seen. We know there are goals to fight for. We know it’s okay to let go of things we thought we knew, thought we loved, thought were right. We know it will be hard. We know we will be deeply sad. We know we’ll get parts wrong. But we know–without a shadow of a doubt–that we’ll keep going.
We know now, too, how to take better care of ourselves. That a full life means movement and rest. Coffee and tea. Greens and chocolate. Sunshine and rain. Knitting and dreaming. Lucky for us, it looks like we’re moving out of a dreaming stage and into a knitting one.
We’re starting to make pacts with ourselves–all of us, here at the shop–that we’re just going to knit. To knit for knit’s sake. To stop hoarding yarn and to start knitting with it. To stop waiting for The Perfect Project For The Perfect Moment…and just cast on. To knit because we love it. To knit because it soothes us. To knit because it challenges us. To knit because it numbs us. To knit because it invigorates us. To knit because it rights us. To knit because it binds us.
We don’t know what that means (cables? brioche? sweaters? socks?), but it doesn’t matter, really. We just want to knit. Anything. Everything.
Let’s usher in the New Year, dear friends–and make it full of knitting, shall we?
