Friday, February 21, 2014

To Crochet

Yes, Minnie is going to pick up a new hobbie that has absolutely nothing to do with healing the other party members, or tending to Jacob. Her first project is to make an axe cozy to keep Axe’s axe blade nice and warm… and yeah, that’s not going to happen. I felt the need to get the game reference out of the blog post early. Other than that, I don’t expect this topic will touch on the game at all. And, instead of me asking Cupcake for a topic I came up with one all by myself.

To crochet, the act of crocheting, using a hook like needle to fold threads of yarn (or any string like material) into a desirable pattern to make a useful garment. Or something along those lines. I don’t know what the text book definition of crochet is, and it would be atypical of me to actually go and look it up. I rather enjoy winging it, and hoping everything comes out ok on the other side.

I’m not even sure, really, whether this post is going to be about crocheting. It just seemed like a good place to start as I was crocheting when I thought of it. And, crocheting is a really, kind of, fascinating craft. You can do a great many practical things with it, blankets, scarves, sweaters, hats, socks, hell you could probably crochet a pair of pants if you really wanted too, but sometimes the end result doesn’t matter.

Let’s look at it as if it were a journey. The destination isn’t the only important thing about the journey. I mean, hell, life is a journey and its destination is death. It’s what comes between those two points that really matters. The memories, the triumphs, and failures, all of that is one brick in the road our journey takes us along.

Now, how is crocheting like that? Isn’t crocheting a pretty mindless repetitive task? In a way, I guess it is, but breathing is also a mindless repetitive task. Buddhist monks use breathing, specifically control of their breathing, to enter into a meditative state, one where the physical does not matter and the mental is all that’s left. Crocheting, for me anyway, does the same thing. The simple act of concentrating on those mindless repetitive motions allows my mind to soar free of its mental confines and stressors. I’m free when I’m working that little hook back and forth, free in even a way that writing can’t replicate.

I think I’m starting to stumble over my words.

I feel bigger, and more at peace with the world around me when I crochet. Working the threads is sort of like being the hand of fate, creating all the twists and turns a person’s life is going to go through. Maybe it gives me a sense of control over my own life.


And, even in the places where I feel like I have the most control over my life, things get chaotic and out of hand. I imagine it’s a knot the hand of fate has run into, and he’s having to work the yarn a little harder to get it exactly the way he wants it.

This is where I’m going to stop, too. I don’t think I’d be happy if I kept on writing. It was taking a depressing turn. SO, to cheer myself back up, I’m going to go watch My Little Pony and crochet a bit more. Maybe figure out what it is I’m actually working on.



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