Last year I was gifted a small book, One Thought a Day. It’s a little book where you write a line or two each day for five years. Thoughts were written until March and then it was put down. I picked it up again this new year, to give it another go. It was a surprise that I started writing the same “realizations”, struggles and challenges almost to the day the year before. If my thoughts from last year weren’t written down in the little box, I would be patting myself on the back for the new insights I had, plowing ahead with expectations that the coming year would be completely different.
It’s funny, the narrative we play over in our minds and what we forget. This year I set out to knit all my family members a gift. In my planning, I thought what I set out to do was doable: a few hats and cowls. Intellectually, it all was possible- just like all the change I planned with my “new” revelations but in practice it was a whole different story. I knit a lot faster in my mind. There are few interruptions and my fingers move at lightening speed. In truth, I was rushing through the knitting, frustrated that I didn’t have more dedicated knitting time, just in order to finish and get on to the next gift. It wasn’t the relaxing or enjoyable experience I expected. It prevented me from being present with my knitting or benefiting from all the reasons I love it; it became another “to do” on the list.
Through my first season of gift knitting and re-reading my thoughts from last year, it’s clear that my expectations have been a bit unrealistic, especially during the holiday season. I want to do all the things: knitting, baking, shopping, cooking, cleaning, decorating, parties and the list goes on. To have all the family gatherings to be relaxing and smooth without conflict or frustration; to participate in every activity with enthusiasm and grace. In what world does this happen? Yet every year, I set myself up for the impossible and then have the hardest time enjoying what is right in front of me.
New Year’s resolutions are not something I make every year, and if I do, they’re usually big sweeping statements that are great sounding but nearly impossible to carry out and inevitably fade away by March. This year, however, I will focus on sleep. I figure, lots can come from being more rested…or not (adjusting those expectations!). Some weeks will be better than others. Often it’ll be out of my control (right now it’s 5am wake ups in my house). But I can start small and forgiving and not get caught up in all the things I’d like to change/do (exercise, yoga, de-clutter, less phone time, creative pursuits, reading, travel…).
One thing knitting has taught me is if I rush it, it saps the joy from the act of creating. When knitting to finish in order to cast on the next project, I’m not present with what’s in front of me but instead wishing for what I don’t have; always wanting more. Knitting endlessly is not possible. My hands ache and other tasks and people call my attention. Balance is required. It helps remind myself that taking it slow is part of the process; it encourages me to accept where I am at this point in my life.
The gifts are still being made and the joy that I have in giving a homemade present is just as wonderful. They can always wear it next winter! And little thoughts are being recorded right before an earlier bedtime- I just hope I make it past Spring.