I was so relieved when I finished knitting a project the other night. Finally!100+ yards of linen/cotton yarn coaxed into a garment, of sorts. Yay!
And then I tried it on. And, well, lets just say not-so-yay.
It had been the work of more than a few hours and while I consulted patterns (as I usually do) and it was a fairly simple garment (as I usually make), it just didn’t turn out right. And you know what? I kind of expected that. Somewhere just past the 1/3 mark, I started to have grave doubts. About 2/3 of the way in, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like it, but I felt married to finishing it and seeing if my doubts would go unrealized.
And you know what? I was right to have doubts. The end result wasn’t hideous, it was just wrong.
And you know what? I had no problem whatsoever unravelling the whole finished project this morning as part of my migraine-relief therapy.
Okay, it wasn’t intended as therapy, but unravelling that project did provide relief. It’s the kind of relief you feel when you acknowledge that the work you are doing is not good, not fitting and not … the end of the world. I realized as I sat there with a freshly wound ball of yarn that I would rather have that ball of potential than a shawl that neither suited my tastes, my ideals of my own capabilities, nor, dare I say it, even my frame.
So here I am, perusing more patterns to bring to life a new project with the same materials and a heady resolve to bring beauty to function–and a promise to myself that if I fail to do so again, I will do the same again, and again, and again.
Each project holds a learning and this one gave me many.
I sometimes find I learn more when things unravel than I do when they knit themselves into a bit of loveliness. I learn about the process, about my abilities, about myself.
Which is not to say I wouldn’t mind a bit of loveliness draped about my shoulders just about now. Maybe in another couple hundred yards …