Stitch By Stitch
At this time of year, when the days grow shorter and temperatures drop, I
love to find myself cozied up on the couch with a cup of tea, and a new
project on my knitting needles.
As you may know, knitting is a very, very, slow practice. While
it can look effortless, it demands a disciplined, mindful attention. If
my mind wanders too far when knitting, I’ll look back on a row of
incorrect stitches and have to start again. If I let the day’s stress
crawl into my shoulders, my tension will be too tight and I’ll have to
unravel my progress. Each stitch becomes a lesson, a tangible reflection
of my thoughts and emotions, gently revealed by my yarn and needles.
When I started knitting, I didn’t have a regular meditation practice,
but before long, knitting became a sort of meditation for me. It offered
me an opportunity to sit and clear my mind, encouraging me to focus on
the present moment. The yarn sliding between my fingers and the soft
clinking of the needles against each other was a sweet reminder that I
was here, in the moment, creating something — even if it was only a
small centimeter of a stitch.
The three pieces below explore how to see your everyday practices as
exercises in mindfulness, whether it be a new knitting project or your
morning cup of tea. May they help you enjoy the present moment this
weekend.
—Martine Panzica, Assistant Digital Editor, LionsRoar.com
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In the dharma of knitting, there is no past or present or future, says
Jennifer Urban-Brown. Without holding on to the promise of the finished
object, loop yarn, pull through, breathe in, breathe out.
Knitting is slow art. Zen is slow training. In Zen, emphasis is placed
on the act of sitting rather than enlightenment, the end goal. In
knitting, I can also place emphasis on the activity rather than the
final product. While a finished knitted object is often (though not
always!) something that brings a lot of joy, when my attention is placed
on the process of creation rather than the final sweater or scarf, the
experience is that much richer.
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A cup of tea or coffee is a nice break. Drinking it mindfully is a real break. Joseph Emet teaches us this five-step practice.
Constantly rehearsing the story of our roles, obligations, and
commitments wears us down. Yes, we may be mothers, doctors, servers, or
office workers, but at the core, we are more than these things. We are
“breath-breathing humans,” as the Sufi poet Rumi said. Whatever your
story, you are more than that story. Get in touch—and stay in touch—with
the breath-breathing human you are as you enjoy your tea.
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Place your mind on the needle dipping in and out of the fabric, says
Cyndi Lee. If you space out, the stitches will go crooked, and that will
wake you up.
Nobody taught me that the way to choose fabric was by tapping into my
senses and trusting my intuition. Nobody taught me that the whole
process of making a garment, from cutting out the pattern to sewing on
the last button, was a practice of concentration, creativity, and
community. But years later, I realize that everything I know about
sewing nearly matches what I know about meditation and yoga. As I see
it, here are the four most important instructions for contemplative
sewing.
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