The paradox of sox

At one of the first national sessions I went to for my school program, there was a woman sort of drifting from one seminar or event to another who wasn't taking notes, and who didn't have the same air of *anxiety* that wafted off the new students. Instead, she was carrying a big fluffy pile of knitting -- some reddish fuzzy yarn. At that point, I hadn't touched a needle or crochet hook in at least a decade -- but something about the way that she wielded this knitting so casually, her chin set in a posture of curiosity without need, that sparked a burst of envy in me. She was in the conversations but not avidly Trying to Learn.

It was an aspect that I yearned for -- not a reductionist "being done the program" stance, but the presence of mind to participate without the jittery need to Get As Much As Possible from it. Sara did her Final Oral that week, and the undercurrent of contentment that she carried the knitting with matched the calm pleasure she presented her work with.

I must have tucked away that image of Sara's knitting until it popped out about six months ago. I bought my sister yarn and needles for christmas, and paused for a minute in the store. When I was in portland, I kept seeing yarn stores and having an unmistakable yearning to go in, buy some needles and yarn, make a simple scarf. I finally did it a couple of weeks later, and now, I'm making relatively fancy socks.

I'll be done these before I go to Kansas City in 10 days for my own Final Oral and graduation (provided I don't have some other ridiculous screw up -- the first sock was perfect but I had to completely frog the second one and start over because of Inattention and Stupidness -- the Life Lessons of Knitting), but I will certainly be toting something around on needles as I drift from seminar to seminar. The mini narrative of that fluff of knitting in sara's lap obviously became an emblem for me of how I wanted to do this final student week -- engaged and not anxious, navigating complexity, poised.

I'm not quite done the rewrites (how tired is everyone around me of hearing this??). Got a lot of feedback this week I need to absorb, assimilate, distill. Turn the mucky blend of how I can now talk about my work into a single malt. But the paradox of the socks -- what looked like a distraction was actually a frame for getting me to a poised finish.