1) A few weeks ago I was at my grandparents learning how to cable knit. I ran my thumb along the raised pattern. My grandmother put on her glasses, attached to a string around her neck, and waved me over to where she was sitting, in the process of knitting a sweater. "Looks good," she nodded. "Yeah, I messed up a couple times though, purled when I should've knit," I bent over and pointed. My grandmother removed her glasses, "Mmmhmm. It happens. The lady at the knit shop reminded me that, to be honest, nobody will notice these little things, so you shouldn't worry about it. They only stick out to you because you made them."
2) After finishing my scarf, I believe I was in Santa Barbara at the time, I was trying to explain to some friends how knitting works. It's all one string (unless you are making a sweater or something and have to sew the arms to the torso, but just ignore that for now) connecting the thousands of knots. That fact reminded me of the Buddhist concept that there is no self, that the only thing that strings our individual lives together on a day-to-day basis is the chain of memories and pain. It's like every day we wake up and are not the same person we were the day before, save for our memories. And it could be seen as bleak, but it could also be seen as a fresh start. Or a really great scarf. Ba dum chhh.
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