The bottom line motivation that I try to give people when they say, "Why should I bother trying? Why should I bother trying to make a thing in this world when it probably won't work..." Go make this thing and see not what you make, but who you become. That's why it's worth doing: because your life itself is a work of art and an interesting experiment. So make your life the work of art, and what you create is not nearly as important as what you are created into through the creation. --Elizabeth Gilbert
I was feeling tired over the last week... again. I've given up trying to figure out how and why the weariness comes. I'm trying to accept that my energy comes and goes in cycles, that I sit in a boat that sometimes glides along on its own, and that sometimes I have to paddle with all my might... with one arm... in a sling... I make room to say no to things and to sleep some more or lie on my bed for a while or to close my eyes and just wait to see how I feel in the next moment.
I missed my blog post last week, but that wasn't due to this cyclical weariness but because we decided to drive up to Qualicum Beach for a picnic and a swim in the ocean. I felt pretty good at the time, and I enjoyed sitting with Seymour on the grass in the shade waiting for the hubby to come back from his swim so that I could have a turn in the water. Seymour wasn't too pleased about being wrestled back into the shade every few minutes. That dog sure loves to work on his tan:
I've been trying to keep my energy up by eating lots of fresh veggies and fruit which is currently in abundance here on Vancouver Island. I'm really enjoying eating big bowls of tomatoes and cucumber mixed with corn and black beans with a simple dressing. Sometimes I put it over a bed of romaine lettuce and sometimes I just eat it on its own. I think it's the colours that delight me each time:
I was given a huge bag of yellow plums the other day but was then faced with the dilemma of how on earth I was ever going to get through that many plums. I love fruit, but even I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the challenge of eating plum after plum after plum. I decided to try out a recipe for some plum butter that you make in a slow cooker. It entailed cutting about 4 and a half pounds of plums in half and removing the pits. I dithered about whether or not I would do that or just leave them in and strain them out later, but I opted to pit them at the start. It wasn't so bad once I got going:
They're currently cooking away in the slow cooker, but if you think I made any kind of dent in my plum stockpile, have a look at the big bowl that I still have leftover. I think more plum recipes are on the horizon:
Meanwhile, I have been steadily working away on my current knitting project. It's coming along quite well, even though it's an extremely slow knit. A tee knit in laceweight yarn on 2.75mm needles is not exactly going to be an instant gratification project:
I'm not following a pattern apart from the simple repeating lace motif, but I'm just watching the fabric as it grows and making decisions about sleeve placement and length and neck design, etc. as I go along. I'm really liking how the increases for the sleeves look so far. I think it looks tidy and elegant at the same time:
I've asked myself why I insist on making these tedious and meticulous projects again and again. Why am I not knitting stuff in worsted or bulky weight yarn? Why am I pushing myself through hours and hours of tiny stitches? Can't I just make something quick with a printed pattern that I can finish in a week? And why am I taking the pits out of 4 and a half pounds of plums by hand? Why do I stand over a pot of risotto for an hour mixing and mixing the stock in? If I'm so tired, why don't I just get a bunch of microwave meals and be done with it?
The thing is: I find immense comfort in these projects, however long and tedious they become. When I can't sleep at night, the best way I've found to drift off to sleep is to imagine what I'm going to make with a beautiful skein of yarn in my stash: I think about how I'll fashion sleeves and hemlines, what kind of colourwork might create the effect I am imagining, or if I can stretch out the limited yardage to make a wearable garment. Lately, I've been thinking about whether this current panel is going to be the front or the back of the tee, and whether or not the front and the back will be the same or if they will different, and if they are different, how will they differ...
It sounds corny, but the more meticulous and mysterious a project is, the more magical the process is for me. I heard Elizabeth Gilbert say that quote at the beginning of this post, and it resonated with me so strongly that I've gone back to listen to it a few times since. I think that, however tired I feel, these creative endeavours into yarn and wool and fabric keep me going... keep me changing and growing and evolving. And I think that's worthwhile.
But it's also important to nap. Seymour is in charge of that department. Time for a rest. Have a good week.
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