News from the needles: cabled wrist-warmers

Are cables a mystery to you? I was convinced that they were an unconquerable mystery. My dear friend Sam offered to teach me, and I bought cable needles in anticipation. Before she got the chance, I found this lovely little kit from Nest (in London's Crouch End). They don't carry it anymore, but they have many other lovely things including ribbed wristwarmers at the moment. It's a family business, and although I have no affiliation with them whatsoever, they were lovely on the phone when I rang!

I've cast off the first one, and am determined to finish the second one in January. I'm not convinced I finished any knitting projects in 2012, so I'm out to break the pattern!

PS. I just love wooden needles. Do you prefer wood or metal?

 

Letting the tightness go

Why do we fight ourselves constantly? I read an article by Leo Babauta at Zen Habits that resonated with me in the last few days. It was on letting go of the tightness, in your shoulders, in your meditation, in your work.

I recognise this tightness. It's a cousin of restlessness. They both get in the way of what I want to do, whether it's meant to be work or play. Leo explains how without fighting or giving up, he was able to just let the tightness go. The first step is to notice it.

I've experiencing tightness around a number of things at the moment...
...tightness in my feet and my shoulders...
...tightness around the idea of yoga, the yoga I haven't done, the yoga I can't do, the yoga I can do but won't find time for...
...tightness around the idea of letting myself be looked after, of not being the looking-after-er...
...tightness around the work I have yet to do...
...tightness about life choices, big and small (are there any small life choices?)...
...tightness around the idea of my weight, size and fitness...

So I am trying not to fight it, not to power through, especially not to berate myself for the tightness. Instead I notice it, and release it. Let it float away. If it is too sticky, I take myself back to Leo's article and go through his steps for releasing tightness.

I think these days of waiting for all the promise of a new year hold tightness for a lot of people. What tightness are you carrying these days?

Journalling/life

It is with mixed feelings that I post this here. Lately (well, not just lately!) I have been muted and hesitant, even silent, in my journals and here on the blog. I know I'm not alone in this. Many of the bloggers I read loyally sometimes doubt the worth of their voice, their message, their work. We question whether to share the hard times, the self doubt, the mess behind the camera. Other bloggers sometimes make us feel bad, and I don't mean deliberately in comments but through our own cruel comparisons, through our own sense of shame, through competing rather than celebrating. 

We question our audience. It is easy to have that "what if I have the party and nobody comes?" feeling. What if someone we know irl reads something private? What if someone reads and thinks "who does she think she is?" I battle this one for two main reasons: my dear parents read my blog (and thank you both, I'm glad you do!) which adds an element of accountability, and over the decision (with others) to dissolve a design team on another blog, and then to stay strong in that decision when the blog team reformed.

I've been art journalling for 7 years, at least I've been calling it art journalling for 7 years. It has enriched and grounded my life no end. It has brought me experiences and friendships that I never would have had without it. And then it reached a peak of popularity, and the community expanded. Books and magazines appeared everywhere and familiar names became something approaching celebrities. I rejoiced in this, as I believe it has something to offer so many. And it brought all those doubts in it's wake.

So here I push through. I clear a space on my table, in my day, to face my feelings to set them down, work them through. And I share a glimpse of my current journal, though it's only a corner. Sometimes it needs to be that way.