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| My standing desk in my "new" craftroom with my quartet of fluffy inspiration. Yarn is Elsebeth Lavold Silky Wool in color 20 |
Today, my DH (dear husband) said something to me that was so profound; it was one of those aha moments that you desperately want to grasp all it contains before it "poofs away".
For reference, I always get lost in Minecraft or ESO - whatever game we're playing, people have to send out rescue parties for me. But yesterday the world shifted, and I was fine, I knew where I was and led us back from the nether wastes with torches and skompasses.
DH started by saying, "It was like an upside-down day. You weren't lost, and your GF was."
I said, "I felt that I had more awareness of where I was and kept better track of it."
He said, "No, I think that you took this new confidence and believed that you knew the way, and you didn't second-guess yourself. You followed your intuition. You've always known the way, but you didn't trust yourself to take the path that would lead you home. The difference is today you trusted yourself and you never faltered because you *knew* that was the way home."
That really hit me, and I knew I would blog about it because he is right. I always used to question my own knowing. I would ask others if they thought I should do something, and their opinion would sway mine, and now, not so much.
That got me thinking about my blog. I have been really missing writing. My blog has breadcrumbs that will lead me back home, much like the Nether. I know the way. It feels so familiar to be writing again.
I'm not the person I was when I started this blog years ago. In some ways, I am, but since the start of the year, I have really changed my mindset.
I saw this quote this week that shifted everything in my head in such a way that I knew I could take the next step, and that was empowering.
"But the thing is, there is no right first step. There is just a first step."
-Nataly Kogan
So, my first step was to open Blogger and click "New Post." It was actually effortless and felt right and natural. All that "I need to please a certain demographic" is gone. I won't hold myself to a standard I never wanted for myself. I'm happy to talk to anyone who stops by and wants to chat; my door is always open, as they say.
Where to begin was never a hard part for me. My mind has always been too full of ideas. These days, I use Obsidian as my second brain. I have taken notes from different sources and categorized, filed, and organized them for easy retrieval in my Obsidian Vault.
What stood out to me was a post from 2006. The Laurene shawl, named for my beloved Mother, has been one of those things I put away because I didn't want to deal with it. And here is why.
When Life Unravels
Heaven, I sighed to myself as I watched the tip of the golden sun make its descent below the ocean waters. The skies were dressed in hues of lavender, gold, and a deep navy blue, with little stars peeking through. The surf beckoned to me with gentle waves with frothy caps. It was the perfect night.
Every year, I have five glorious days to get away from it all with my small family that I adore. If the budget allows, we usually end up at the beach. The ocean is my touchstone of sanity. Somehow, the waves always invite serenity back to my being, and I feel whole again.
I settled back into my chaise and breathed in the sea air of the Atlantic. It is hard for me to do absolutely nothing for too long, being an Aries and all, so I reached into my knitting bag and took out the ball of mossy green silky wool.
I had this idea to make a pattern for a lapghan for my mom. Mom had been having more and more trouble walking and using the wheelchair more and more, and she liked to have something that would cover her knees, which always seemed to be cold.
I used lace to create a beautiful garden of flowers throughout the shawl. Twisted vines adorned the sides, their graceful curves made of cables. I was pretty happy with the way my swatches had come out, so now began the weeks of knitting to see what it looked like all knitted and blocked flat.
My husband came out to the balcony to sit with me, and we watched the stars come out and light the heavens. As I finished row after row, we talked about life, dreams, and how we would weave our goals into our lives. The sweet melody of his voice soon had me realizing how tired I was, and try as I might, I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes open.
I put the knitting away, but not before noticing how much I had achieved. I had made about a foot of progress, and with lace-weight yarn, that's really impressive!
The next morning, we took pictures of the lace backlit with the rising sun coming through the fabric’s holes. It would be an excellent picture for the blog, and I planned to write the entry when I got back from breakfast.
After a scrumptious meal, a Farmer's Omelet, with bacon and sausage, we came back to the room only to find that there were strands of something running from one end of the room to the other. In those moments where your mind tries to make sense of something unfamiliar, it can be distressing until you regain your equilibrium again.
There was a strange object like a pencil on the floor, but my mind said it was not a pencil. It felt like a freight train had slammed into my chest because that wasn’t a pencil, but it was my knitting needle. A knitting needle should have knitting on it, right? It is in the name, after all. But mine didn’t.
As I scanned the room, hyperventilating, I realized that the strands scattered around were the remnants of my knitting. At this point, I lost the ability to speak because to a knitter, this is the worst thing that can happen. Everything I had achieved during that serene, beautiful night was lying on the rug, the bed, and wound tightly around a table leg.
My husband helped me gather all the yarn up and wound the loose strands into a ball while I called the front desk.
“ Siryoudonotknowmebutsomeonefromyourstaffpulledtheneedleoutofmyknitting,” was precisely how I started my complaint in tears with huge sobs punctuating my nonsensical words.
The concierge with a very kind tone answered, “I can hear that you are upset. What can we do to help you?” I could feel him offering me a handkerchief through the phone.
And I thought about it, what could they really do? Educate their staff on the pitfalls of pulling the needle out of knitting projects? Find some friendly knitters who would compensate me for the time I lost? But then I looked at all the loose stitches in my hand that still needed to find their way back to the needle, and lost it again.
“I just wanted to make you aware of what had happened. I had worked for six hours on something that was destroyed in seconds,” I moaned like I had lost a family member, clutching the needle tightly in my hand.
Mr. Concierge took a deep breath. I know I must have sounded insane, “I can understand that when you come here you want to unwind, and while I cannot do anything to replace what was lost, we will pay for yesterday, including the room charges. Will that help to put your trip back on track?”
You could hear the hope in his voice, and I closed my eyes and said, “That is very generous of you. Thank you,” because that is what adults do.
I hung up the phone and stood up slowly. My husband reached out for my hand, and turned my wedding ring around a few times before testing the waters, “Can I do anything to help?”
Not unless you have a Wayback machine, a TARDIS, or a Speed Force I can borrow…
I kissed his cheek and shook my head. Taking the needle, I put it back through the loops that were still viable and then put the whole mess in a plastic bag, where it remains to this day.
I remade the shawl and gave it to Mom; she was cremated in it. Sometimes at night, I dream about all that yarn all over the room, and I try to pick my way through it like a labyrinth to my sanity. I always wake up in tears.
-The End...or the beginning?
To Be Continued...
Bright Blessings,
Ruinwen 🤗
A Special thanks to the Secret Hippie who looked over this very short story for me years ago and is a constant pillar of support and guidance.
A Special thanks to Yellow Dog Pet Services, who have helped me with photo shoots and writing projects over the years.
