Yesterday evening's meditation practice was about "Waiting." Heather drew our attention to the time we spend waiting for things to happen-we wait in coffee shops; we wait for people to change so we can be happy (haha to that!); we wait for the snow to stop and the weather to warm up, all in anticipation of something better around the corner. As a result, we fail to enjoy Now. "What would happen," she asked, "If instead of filling the time, we decided to accept Now, stop waiting and be happy with what is?"
It's an interesting question and timely, too, because, as I shift back into fibre mode, I've turned my attention to using fibres and yarns I have on hand, rather than buying more in anticipation of a nicer yarn, a perfect project which awaits me in the future. I started by hauling out my cotton yarn samples. A while back, I emptied my bobbins by plying cotton singles together at random, which resulted in a small stash of nice, if knotty, cotton yarns and blends. This week, I knit a couple of washcloths and a long, long sideways scarf from these scraps. I promised myself I would use only what was on hand and resist the urge to spin more yarn. As it happens, I had just enough yarn for two washcloths, but ran out on the bind off for the scarf on the last few stitches. I decided to take a note from weavers, who often weave Spirit Lines or obvious mistakes into their work, in order to let the weaving spirit move from one project to another or to acknowledge that not one of us is perfect. As a result, if you look closely, you'll see a shift in the edge of the scarf at one end, but I'm betting that no one will notice unless I point out that shift.
My next step is to use up a batch of hemp and linen yarns, some of which have been sitting in my stash since-get this-1989. Talk about waiting! I've cast on with the hemp and am sampling another washcloth, which is likely to be a super scrubber and exfoliating piece of fabric, judging from the hand of the sample. You can see it on the needles in the photo below, along with the linen yarns above it:
|The linen yarns are at the top; the skein on the right dates back to 1989.|
What I discovered while using up the stash was that, rather than being bored with what was available, focusing on what was here stimulated all manner of possibilities. That pile of hand dyed, thick and thin wool yarns I made while playing with colour and plying may be a blanket; there's another wrap in the huge skein of purple wool and silk yarn. I'm not waiting for that to happen, though. I'm happy with what is on my needles now.