Category - Ponderings

A week ago, one of my really good college friends and his family came through town on their way from Southern Utah back home to Bend, Oregon. I hadn’t seen them for at least twelve years, so it was a long-overdue visit where we got to meet one another’s families and catch up beyond the connections Facebook status updates afford.

While here, my friend’s two kids told their parents that I reminded them of Elastigirl. His kids knew nothing about my whole “Knit Hero” launch, so who knows what it was about me harkened Helen Parr in the Pixar movie, “The Incredibles,” but whatever it was, I find it incredibly flattering!

Elastigirl is awesome. She kicks some major ass while keeping her head and still being an amazing mom and wife to her family. She has a solid moral compass, is resourceful and flexible, and although she doesn’t knit in the movie, I’m giving it pretty good odds that she will be knitting in at least one scene in the sequel. Because, really, we all know she would be an awesome knitter.

What I like about Elastigirl–and all the Incredibles in general–is that they are not perfect, iconic superheroes. They are real people most of the time, living undercover, learning about how to use their superpowers within the perameters of normal society. They have faults, insecurities, and are evolving just like the rest of us. Just because they are superheroes, they still make mistakes and screw things up.

I find this very comforting. Just because I am Knit Hero does not mean I have no faults or make no mistakes. I make plenty and often. I am not perfect. Not even close.  I am still learning all the time. In fact, learning and growing are what I enjoy most about life. Whenever things feel stagnant is when I start to feel bored, uninspired and antsy.

Thankfully, knitting keeps me humble. Just when I feel a little cocky, my knitting comes up to bite me from behind and remind me that I still have a lot to learn. I made one of the cardinal errors of knitting on my Coronilla Tee that I didn’t even notice until showing it off to a friend. Laying it out on a table for her to admire my knitting prowess, I see something I had never noticed before:

A stripe. A pretty obvious stripe.

Yep…

This superhero didn’t notice that I had purchased and been knitting with two very different dyelots until the sweater was almost completely finished. It’s not quite like injuring a trainful of passengers or mistakenly blowing up a building, but it’s embarrassing nonetheless. It means frogging the tee up to the armholes to start again, hoping that alternating the skeins will hide my careless mistake.

I am not a good knitter because I don’t make mistakes. (Oh, I make plenty!) What makes me a good knitter is not being afraid of making mistakes. Nothing in knitting is permanent. I am not afraid of ripping something out and starting again. Dropping a miscrossed cable down twenty rows and reworking it row by row is actively thrilling for me. As I’ve knit–and made lots of mistakes–I’ve gotten braver and better at fixing the things I’ve messed up. I’m willing to try new things and tackle challenging projects not because I know I won’t mess them up, but because I’m not afraid of making them.

It’s a good reminder to me that just because I am calling myself Knit Hero does not mean I am now perfect, above making mistakes or learning new things. I will not always have all the answers or know all the things–nor would that really be any fun. Instead, I want to continue loving knitting, teaching, and learning. That sounds like an adventure worthy of a superhero to me!

Immediately following the most intense, public online period in my life–launching Knit Hero, this website, a blog, an email list, and initiating a Ravelry KAL group that suddenly gleaned a lot of followers–I very suddenly went completely offline by going on an Alaskan cruise last week.

It was hard to leave all the feedback I was constantly receiving from others and the rush of connections that I felt I was building in this online world, but at the same time it was just exactly what I needed. For people who know me well, you know that I tend to be a little bit (okay, a lot) obsessive, and the past month has been all about Knit Hero all the time. It has been thrilling and exciting and I love every minute of it, but it is also exhausting. I was almost manic over how often I was checking stats, viewing feedback and responding to comments, and brainstorming next steps and  concocting plans. I didn’t know how to stop, how to take a breath.

Then, very suddenly, I was just Karyn. On a cruise. With my family. In Alaska.

It was wonderful.

I had no internet connection and no easy way to connect with anyone who wasn’t in my immediate vicinity. I was completely offline. Instead, I took over 400 photographs, ate a lot of food, saw whales, Bald Eagles, and glaciers, played games, sea kayaked, and walked along quaint sidewalks in little Alaskan towns. I didn’t get as much knitting time in as I had hoped, but what I did fit in was perfection.

I got to the halfway point of the Talisman Shawl, the first Shawl Society shawl, just south of Ketchikan, Alaska. It was a gorgeous few hours sitting in the sun, watching for whales and feeling a connection with these elusive mammals as they came up for air and then headed back below the surface once again. It was a good reminder that this time to myself, with my family, just quietly coming up for air and then disappearing for a while before coming up for air again, is so restorative and natural. It reminded me that  trusting myself as I move through this life, remembering to breathe and rest and look around a while, is crucial in maintaining balance and momentum.

My daughter, Grace, and I kayaking Chilkot Lake outside Haines, Alaska. Breathing together.

After docking in Seattle, I flew down to Eugene, Oregon to visit with my mom as she recovers from surgery on her spine, allowing me the opportunity to be with her and also to reconnect just a little bit online before getting fully back into the swing of things once I get home. It is yet another chance to breathe. And remember the whales.

This is scary stuff, this “making a space to create a stucture to what I’ve already doing while giving myself room to grow, expand, and explore.” I feel like I’m just putting myself out there for all of you to see…just me in my birthday suit (ideally with at least a little something to knit)…wondering what everyone will think of me…

I’m often touting that I don’t like change very much, but for someone who doesn’t like change, I definitely seem to crave it. I think it makes me feel alive to be a little scared.

Of course, perhaps that’s because while I’ve done a lot of scary things in my life, I always seem to land on my feet. Generally, I’m usually glad I’ve made the leap. Life is always a little better with a little bit of thrill involved. Let’s hope this time I feel the same, because without any more do to….

It’s time to JUMP!

Aaaaaaahhhhhh…..

(Can’t wait to see you all on the other side!)

I hike or run almost as often as I knit. Almost every single day, I find the time to either run or hike in the mountains with my dog. It is even more rare for a day to go by without me finding the time to knit for at least an hour. Even though I think of myself more as a knitter than a hiker, and often profess that I have to knit every day just to stay sane, I think the same is true about me getting out on the foothills in the fresh air, putting one foot in front of the other.

While hiking today with my pup, I was thinking a lot about this, especially since today is the day that was supposed to be the day before I was to run my fourth half marathon. Until recently, I was still waffling on whether or not I was ready to run it this year, but when my IT band seized up one mile into my run yesterday, I knew I was out. I’m a little sad to miss the run down the beautiful Ogden Canyon, but I would be more sad to hurt myself too badly to even walk or hike or run at all. I love the act of putting one step in front of the other more than crossing the finish line of a big race.

And that is when I started to think about how much I love knitting, not just for the majestic things I finish, but for the simplicity of each stitch. I get a lot of attention for my knitted shawls, and I definitely like my shawls, but I like the act of knitting–the rhythm of my needles and the feel of the yarn, learning new techniques, the miracle of turning string into something beautiful one stitch at a time–even more. It is less important to me what I knit or whether I knit the best, most difficult shawls in the world than just the act of knitting one stitch after another.

Just like running or hiking, nothing about knitting is particularly hard. But, just like climbing up a mountain or finishing a marathon, knitting a lace shawl is about focusing on each stitch, each pattern repeat, each row at a time until you reach the end. It’s about trusting yourself to keep going. It’s about having the support you need in case you get lost and can’t find your way. It’s about believing that even though the finish seems really far away and insurmountable, if you take it one stitch at a time, you’ll get there. And then you’ll have something beautiful.

Everyone else will notice the finished shawl, like a finisher’s medal around your neck. You’ll remember and appreciate the journey of the knit, which makes that shawl that much more beautiful.