Saturday, October 13, 2007

Knitting Heaven and Earth

I'm loving this book, which I started reading over breakfast this morning. I'd woken up at the bizarre hour of 4:15, couldn't get back to sleep, and decided to treat myself to an eggs-and-bacon breakfast in the coffee shop, where breakfast is much better than the flavorless dinner I had last night.

The Lydon book's beautifully written, thoughtful, and very moving. Here's one of my favorite passages:
I have come to believe that love is ultimately mysterious, a gift from the Creator, a gift of grace. Our happiness comes from loving and being loved, and the work we do with our hands is tied in with it. "Hands to work, hearts to God," the Shakers used to say. Can it be that we become more capable of loving when our hands engage in creation, and that those around us who are hurting or vulnerable are soothed and succored by being tied to the movements of our hands? (41)
I wonder if Gary feels this way about cooking. (Do you, Gar? Minus the God part, I mean, which I know you don't believe?) I realize that for a while now, I've been wistfully jealous of his ability to make caring concrete with food. Now I feel like I have a way to do the same thing with yarn, although it will be quite a while before my creations are as satisfying to the senses as his!

In other news, I took some Claritin last night, and it's helping a little, although I still feel like my sinuses are stuffed with oatmeal. The back's better, though.


  1. I wouldn't say that cooking enables or embodies love, but that it *is* love, when it's done for others than oneself, anyway, and many cooks don't bother for only themselves. Not that it's impractical, but that it's less meaningful. My philosophy is ultimately pragmatic. Love and God are abstract, but, whatever else happens, somebody's got to make dinner. That very formulation implies it's being made for others than merely the maker(s). It's about connection and common humanity -- cooking well for someone requires achieving values that both the cook and the recipient appreciate together. On a pragmatic level, food and clothing (the result of knitting) are about as fundamental as you can get.

  2. If your sinuses are already stuffed with... uh... oatmeal :) try some mucinex and/or some pseudoephedrine, and, of course, a lot of water.

    Just a suggestion from a nurse who loves your blog, and agrees that creation helps make caring concrete.

  3. G -- Well said. (Love you!)

    Ariel -- Thanks for the kind words about the blog. Unfortunately, the hotel gift shop doesn't sell Mucinex or Sudafed, and I don't have a car, and we're miles from anywhere. So I have to make do with the Claritin.


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