Another stitch. Like another meal and another morning shower and another going to bed. One foot in front of the other, life seems full of small gestures designed to keep things moving. Designed to impose order over deeper chaos and uncertainty.
Knitting is alive with metaphors. With promise. With the hope that with persistence and methodical application messes can be given order, wrongs righted, incoherent threads made into a whole.
It is providing structure even where there is no meaning and I suppose for this I should be grateful. Another stitch, another step closer, another moment passed in which the worst doesn't happen and the best is not forever lost.
Many thanks for the comments on my previous post - it adds a lot of warmth to the coldness of the times when people reach out (especially since the computer is mostly turned off and I am not reading blogs and cruising much). I want to make clear though that I don't write these kinds of posts for the purposes of garnering sympathetic comments. I'm not special, my hardships are entirely ordinary and I know it, but if I did not blog when I felt confused and sad, the rest of it would mean so much less. Or worse, so much worse, if you who read here were to think that somehow my life were free from either hardship or confusion, thereby fabricating some kind of crazy ideal. The truth is that often things are good, and happy, and make sense and other times they just aren't and don't. At the moment I am yelling out from down here in the pit, but I'm sure I'll find a way to start climbing out. It just might take a while.