Sometimes I start a blog post but, for whatever reason, fail to publish it. This is one of those. But now seems like the time.
The Echo
I started by writing this in the autumn 2019:
Sometimes the universe is just . . . strange. That's what makes it interesting.
I am coming out of one of the most tumultuous periods of my life. A quick run-down of what has happened in 2018-2019.
September: the passing of my knitting mentor, Jan Stephens.
October: both cats sick
November: the passing of Brûlée
December: father-in-law ill
January: the passing of my father-in-law as well as members of knitting guilds; Cuddly Hubby moves back to Maryland
February: The Whole Nine Yarns closes
June: return of STITCHES to Atlanta after a long hiatus
October through June: intense care giving for Vincent, followed by his passing
There was also a lot of expense. My usual sense of financial security has been undermined.
Oddly, the other period of my life that mimics this is exactly a decade ago, in 2008-2009.
September: falling-out leading to severing a very dear friendship
December: passing of Copernicus
April: STITCHES comes to Atlanta
June: passing of Sophia
July: passing of my knitting muse, Bruce/Scenter, after a month in intensive care
October: the arrival of an expensive piece of fiber arts equipment, a Majacraft Rose spinning wheel
Some of it has been very weird. For example, I was nervous as 30 December 2018 approached, because I lost Copernicus on 30 December 2008. But the day passed without incident. That evening, I laughed off my peculiar superstition. The next day, the step mother-in-law called to say my father-in-law had collapsed the previous day, been put in the intensive care unit, and did not seem to be responding to treatment after 24 hours.
By January of 2019, I was referring to this time as The Change Wave. Several people in my circle of friends were experiencing similar upheaval. One friend lost three cats in a year, then acquired three new ones, two of which spontaneously showed up at his house! Other friends lost family members, or pets, or moved across states, or made major job changes. There has been a lot of drama; and it has been most intense around the nicest people I know.
But, I have also sensed a time is coming in the 2020s, when it will all be fine.
In the spring of 2019, I seemed to find a round tuit. It's an old joke about how people say they will doing something when the get around to it. Break up "around to it" into "a round tuit." May and June were particularly productive in terms of things that have needed to happen in the house but haven't. Repairs, mending, and reorganizing that had been procrastinated for months was crossed off the "To Do" list, one item at a time. So there is a sense of things being cleaned out and tidied, readying and resetting.
The Change Wave
Sometimes the universe is just . . . strange. That's what makes it interesting.
I am coming out of one of the most tumultuous periods of my life. A quick run-down of what has happened in 2018-2019.
September: the passing of my knitting mentor, Jan Stephens.
October: both cats sick
November: the passing of Brûlée
December: father-in-law ill
January: the passing of my father-in-law as well as members of knitting guilds; Cuddly Hubby moves back to Maryland
February: The Whole Nine Yarns closes
June: return of STITCHES to Atlanta after a long hiatus
October through June: intense care giving for Vincent, followed by his passing
June: arrival of new cats, Ozymandias and Ramses
August: arrival of expensive piece of fiber arts equipment, an Ashford 16-shaft table loom.
There was also a lot of expense. My usual sense of financial security has been undermined.
Oddly, the other period of my life that mimics this is exactly a decade ago, in 2008-2009.
September: falling-out leading to severing a very dear friendship
December: passing of Copernicus
April: STITCHES comes to Atlanta
June: passing of Sophia
July: passing of my knitting muse, Bruce/Scenter, after a month in intensive care
October: the arrival of an expensive piece of fiber arts equipment, a Majacraft Rose spinning wheel
Some of it has been very weird. For example, I was nervous as 30 December 2018 approached, because I lost Copernicus on 30 December 2008. But the day passed without incident. That evening, I laughed off my peculiar superstition. The next day, the step mother-in-law called to say my father-in-law had collapsed the previous day, been put in the intensive care unit, and did not seem to be responding to treatment after 24 hours.
By January of 2019, I was referring to this time as The Change Wave. Several people in my circle of friends were experiencing similar upheaval. One friend lost three cats in a year, then acquired three new ones, two of which spontaneously showed up at his house! Other friends lost family members, or pets, or moved across states, or made major job changes. There has been a lot of drama; and it has been most intense around the nicest people I know.
But, I have also sensed a time is coming in the 2020s, when it will all be fine.
In the spring of 2019, I seemed to find a round tuit. It's an old joke about how people say they will doing something when the get around to it. Break up "around to it" into "a round tuit." May and June were particularly productive in terms of things that have needed to happen in the house but haven't. Repairs, mending, and reorganizing that had been procrastinated for months was crossed off the "To Do" list, one item at a time. So there is a sense of things being cleaned out and tidied, readying and resetting.
The Change Wave
I returned to this post in June 2020 and added:
Before the social distancing started, I spent a lot of weekends traveling and gathering — fiber festivals, science fiction conventions, Mensa gatherings. And I kept meeting people who said the same thing when I talked about my weird year — that there was a lot of change energy. Someone said, "People are starting to wake up."
I thought the change energy would merely present in the political cycle. Instead, 2020 turned into a year of unbelievable, rapid transformation. I described what was happening to me a year and more ago as the Universe picking up the snow globe of my life, giving it a hard shake, sitting it back down, and saying, "Ha! Deal with it!" So there's an irony that the rest of the world also ended up in the middle of the shaken snow globe as my life has became fairly settled.
It's also a reminder than sometimes you need a major catastrophe or inconvenience to finally make that change you've needed to do for awhile. Example: For a long time, I didn't have a YouTube channel. Then I discovered all the videos on my blog didn't play on Apple devices. So I had to go make a YouTube channel and publish over there to fix the problem.
The change in gatherings and fiber festivals forced me to reconsider what I do. Can I publish more patterns? How should I use my blog and YouTube channel? What can I do with Zoom? It also forced me to try teaching virtually. While there are some things I can't do that way, there are some things I can do. And I may need to offer other services, such as seaming sweaters or repairing knits. In the end, I may develop a more varied income stream. I may reach more people. I may do more things that help others.
It is hard to find that perspective in the middle of the storm. But it is important to remember that when the storm ends, and you come ashore in a new place, it is a chance for a fresh beginning. It is an opportunity to do something again, but better, as a new iteration. As our country and the world moves through this unusual year, I hope we will move towards building the better world we want not just for ourselves but for everyone.
Before the social distancing started, I spent a lot of weekends traveling and gathering — fiber festivals, science fiction conventions, Mensa gatherings. And I kept meeting people who said the same thing when I talked about my weird year — that there was a lot of change energy. Someone said, "People are starting to wake up."
I thought the change energy would merely present in the political cycle. Instead, 2020 turned into a year of unbelievable, rapid transformation. I described what was happening to me a year and more ago as the Universe picking up the snow globe of my life, giving it a hard shake, sitting it back down, and saying, "Ha! Deal with it!" So there's an irony that the rest of the world also ended up in the middle of the shaken snow globe as my life has became fairly settled.
It's also a reminder than sometimes you need a major catastrophe or inconvenience to finally make that change you've needed to do for awhile. Example: For a long time, I didn't have a YouTube channel. Then I discovered all the videos on my blog didn't play on Apple devices. So I had to go make a YouTube channel and publish over there to fix the problem.
The change in gatherings and fiber festivals forced me to reconsider what I do. Can I publish more patterns? How should I use my blog and YouTube channel? What can I do with Zoom? It also forced me to try teaching virtually. While there are some things I can't do that way, there are some things I can do. And I may need to offer other services, such as seaming sweaters or repairing knits. In the end, I may develop a more varied income stream. I may reach more people. I may do more things that help others.
It is hard to find that perspective in the middle of the storm. But it is important to remember that when the storm ends, and you come ashore in a new place, it is a chance for a fresh beginning. It is an opportunity to do something again, but better, as a new iteration. As our country and the world moves through this unusual year, I hope we will move towards building the better world we want not just for ourselves but for everyone.
The Reset
And now 2021 is coming to a close. As we head into 2022, here is where I am:
English has two words — "house" and "home" — that have similar meanings. "Home" is more about feeling. It is that sense of being loved, safe, connected. "House" is a physical place. House can be a physical manifestation of home. At the end of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Frodo and Gandalf are carried on the Elvish boat into the West. But Samwise comes home to Rosie and their children. The words aren't quite, "and they lived happily ever after," but there's an implication.
I haven't gotten nearly as much crafting done in the past two years as I would have liked. On the other hand, I think I've forgotten the many tasks I have done. I've done a lot of mending and repairing, organizing, and generally caring for my home. We've done major repairs — new windows, a new roof, painting, a little redecorating. The two rescue Siamese have gradually come around. They aren't yet the feline electron cloud their predecessors were, but they are learning how to give and receive love. They are learning what it means to be adopted into a family.
The run of time from 1 August 2021 down through Thanksgiving was a blur. In that time, I attended three science fiction conventions, two Mensa regional gatherings, taught in person at two retreats, taught in person at two fiber festivals, and taught online at another festival. So much of what had been postponed in 2020 all of a sudden came to pass in 2021. I was coming famished to the social buffet, stuffing myself full, and waddling away.
The last and loveliest of these changes is my husband got himself transferred from Maryland back to Georgia. After nearly nine years of living 650 miles apart, the Cuddly Hubby is coming home.
December has been another blur of activity — reorganizing the house, making repairs, packing up the man cave. There were items to keep, items to move, items to donate, items to repair, items to return (thanks, Mom!). At the end of it all is my home, imperfect but in a new iteration. Some years back I had a bit of a meltdown at my veterinarian's office when I blurted out, "I just want to have two healthy cats and have my husband at home. I don't understand why this is such a big ask!"
There are people who need fancy things to be happy — expensive toys, travel, designer clothes, cuisine, connections to power, lavish residences in all the best locations. I am deeply blessed that for me it is simple. A cup of tea. Maybe some chocolate, too. Knitting or spinning or weaving or some other craft. Two healthy cats. And most of all, my Cuddly Hubby.
After a long time, I am again, home.
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