People knit for a lot of reasons. For creative expression. To make something useful or beautiful. And sometimes, to exert control over their life and environment.
I bend reality with my yarn.
I make time flow more swiftly.
I change wasted time into productive time.
While I hold my needles, I transform a hospital room into a sanctuary, not a beeping hell dimension.
I’ve never been so grateful to have an intricate lace project on the needles as I was two weeks ago.
I understand now why so many lapsed knitters find themselves taking it up again when they are in the hospital . Sure, it helps beat the boredom, but it’s more than that. Knitting transforms a knitter’s experience of “place.” It changes your sense of locus of control from external to internal. One minute, you feel out-of-place, unmoored, and anxious. Then you pick up your needles and, in just a few minutes, the rhythm and familiarity have calmed and soothed you. You have control again. Just a small bubble of control, but it’s yours.
Knitting doesn’t really change reality, it changes me.