[stylist] Knitting and Healing
Lynda Lambert
llambert at zoominternet.net
Wed Aug 22 12:21:50 UTC 2012
Thanks for the kind words, Barbara! Yes, knitting has been my safe-place and
my peace for most of my life. I love to create beautiful things to wear out
of beautiful soft yarns. I love hand knitted original clothing.
Barbara, what you do with words is a painting. You ARE painting! The medium
you are using is different, but the thought process is the same. You make a
mark and then you respond to that mark - you do it in words, as another
person does it with pigments.
Never mind coloring IN the lines! That would be highly discouraged because
it would be so confining and regulated. It is the opposite of creativity but
yet, it is the coloring itself that is what is importnat and creative. But,
it is the coloring process itself that is so wonderful - to feel the crayon
that you hold in your hand, to allow it to move into and outside of the
marks on the paper. Coloring can be so creative and beautiful, to mix the
crayon colors and over lay them, one on top of another, creating new
colors - that is so exciting. It is at that time that a child who is
experiencing "coloring" moves from rote mindless coloring inside of the
lines, to break out into a new dimension - the world of ART. Art never
"stays inside the lines" so even as a child, the art spirit was with you
when you colored outside of the lines. You are a creative soul, and
coloring inside of the lines would have stifled you.
In July, my two great-granddaughters, Isabella and Ava, had their paintings
juried into an adult art show at a festival. Ava won an award for her
painting, and Bella had two works in this show. People were so amazed when
they learned that Ava is 1 1/2 years old, and Isabella is not yet 3 years
old. They paint on archival paper or on canvases. Their mother gives them
the canvases and any paint they want to use. She steps aside and allows them
to do whatever they want. When they are "finished" they come and tell her
so. Bella will be 3 this week and one of her gifts from me will be more
paints and canvases and frames for her finished paintings.
I have found that children instinctively know how to make art - it is when
the parent interferes and criticizes and directs them that they become
self-aware and then cautious and finally unable to be creative.
I think that playing with "words" is the same kind of thing. Children can
be taught new words, and what that word means, but then, we can go on to
play with the new word and create new meanings for it as well. We can make
the word into a game, sing it, shout it, scramble it, and dance it. We can
give it life and create new meanings with our word. I think you do that
Barbara, in the poems you write. I experience that kind of life in your
words!
Lynda Lambert
----- Original Message -----
From: "Barbara Hammel" <poetlori8 at msn.com>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Tuesday, August 21, 2012 11:17 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] Knitting and Healing
> That is beautiful, Lynda! I love how you decided to learn how to do
> something you loved because you could. Everyone needs something to get
> them through the tough times. For me, that has always been writing so I
> understand that need, or that lifeline, to carry you through.
> I wish my artistic skills were as varied as yours are. Even though I
> couldn't stay in lines, I loved to color as a child. When my vision
> totally went some twelve years ago I put it aside even though there are
> times when I long to. I always wanted to be a painter, too. There's
> something satisfying in making something out of nothing: turning a bunch
> of pieces into a piece of furniture, putting color on a canvas, putting
> words on a blank page.
> Barbara
>
>
>
>
> Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance. -- Carl Sandburg
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Lynda Lambert
> Sent: Tuesday, August 21, 2012 1:27 PM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Knitting and Healing
>
> I was asked to write an article on how knitting is a healing art. It will
> be published in a book that is being written. Here is what I wrote to him:
> I will paste it here since I have DOCX and so many of you cannot use it.
> Here goes:
>
> "
> I always knew the joy of knitting. I had learned as a young child. On my
> own, I had taught myself how to knit by looking at a knitting book, and by
> visiting a local merchant who helped me select needles and yarn and gave
> me some lessons along the way. No one in my family knitted, and I have no
> idea to this day how I ever became so absorbed in knitting but it has been
> a life-long passion.
>
>
>
> My adult career has been in the arts and humanities and my first love has
> always been the visual arts. That eventually led me to become a professor
> of Fine Arts and Humanities where I taught studio arts, art history, and
> English literature.
>
>
>
> In October 2007, I was in the middle of a sabbatical research project
> on Medieval Art and Literature. At that time, something completely
> unexpected happened to me that has changed the course of my life very
> suddenly. Overnight, I lost most of my eyesight to Ischemic Optic
> Neuropathy. It is a stroke-like event that kills the optic nerve - there
> is no way to know this will ever happen, and no treatment once it does.
> But, the real story here is not what happened to me, but what we do after
> such a life altering event.
>
>
>
> Loss of sight is not like any other event that can happen to someone. For
> many people, it marks the end of life as they knew it. Trying to figure
> out what to do or how to even begin to recover is a daunting new adventure
> into the unknown.
>
>
>
> Very quickly I learned that no one knew what to do with me. I did not know
> anyone who had suffered sight loss. And, no one in my family or circle of
> friends knew anything about blindness. My doctors understood how to
> diagnose me, but never knew what to do from there. Blindness
> rehabilitation is something that most doctors know nothing about. They
> diagnose the patient, and then the patient has to try to figure out what
> to do from there - it was a maddening time for me and I thought my life
> was over since I could do nothing I had done before my sight loss.
>
>
>
> I did not know if it was day or night at first. The most simple tasks were
> impossible for me to do: How to cut my nails? How to get tooth paste on
> my toothbrush? How to apply make-up? How to make a cup of tea? How to
> make a phone call? How to even find a phone number? How to know what day
> it is and how to make an appointment on a calendar? How to memorize
> everything I would need to remember? How to use a computer?
>
> For the first five months I was not able to do anything but listen to some
> books on CDs my husband brought me from the library. But, these books
> were nothing like the academic and challenging works I was accustomed to
> reading. They were so boring to me, and just listening to them deepened my
> depression and feelings of loss.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> One dismal winter afternoon I sat in the soft, velvety , pink reclining
> chair. I was in our "pink room" as the children always called it. This
> room was a solitary place where we visited with friends and sat to read on
> long winter days. It was a soft and warm place, filled with afternoon
> light. My feet were extended on the foot rest, and my eyes were closed. I
> often sat with my eyes closed since it helped me to center myself and to
> relax. The strain of trying to see would be overwhelming and I would
> suffer from painful headaches. I would later learn that these are "bad
> eye days" and the entire body is affected by this straining of the brain
> to see. I was so aware of the connection between the brain and the body
> at this time. My brain would try so hard to see things, and my body could
> not do the work of "seeing" any longer. When a "bad eye day" would begin,
> it would often be another three days or so of intense pain throughout my
> body. I would end up spending many days in bed, trying to cope with the
> pain and the loss. I became aware of the tension between my body and my
> mind on those bad eye days.
>
>
>
> On that particular day, I recall how I was thinking about the sweaters I
> had been making for charity. I had been knitting sweaters for needy
> children.
>
> I was thinking of the sweater I had been knitting for charity and I was
> wondering how I would ever do that again. I thought of the one I was
> doing at the time of my sight loss. I longed to be able to finish it. I
> began to think that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to knit again.
> Desire to finish this little child's sweater just filled me and I decided
> to go get the unfinished project and to give it a try.
>
>
>
> The yarn I was using was a soft acrylic worsted weight yarn. I sat there
> with the fibers in my hand, holding my needles. I could not even see the
> color of the yarn, and certainly could not see the stitches or the
> needles. My eyes stared downwards, straining to see it all, but I could
> not.
>
>
>
> I began by holding the soft yarn in place in my two hands. Just the
> feel of the yarn brought a surge of pleasure through me. The long aluminum
> knitting needles felt cold against my warm hands. I was nervous, and my
> hands were moist against the thin, cool needles. I remembered how much I
> had always loved to knit. If nothing else in my life was going right, I
> always had my knitting. It was a place I went, and I would become one with
> the yarn and the movement as I would knit the hours away. Can I ever do
> this again, I wondered?
>
>
>
> I started to move the needles, balance them between my two hands and put
> them into position for knitting. I struggled. I tried and tried again,
> but could not do it. In my solitude, I felt the sting of failure. I felt
> worthless and useless at that moment. I shed hot tears. They slid down
> my face, to my faltering hands.
>
>
>
> In my sorrow, I suddenly had an inkling of a thought that came to me. It
> was a revelation and something I had not thought about before. In this
> moment, I realized I could not do it because I was trying to SEE it.
> The idea was that it seemed logical that since I could not see, I should
> just close my eyes, and try to begin to feel it. Yes, I realized it was
> my desire to see what I was doing, that was keeping me from seeing it. I
> had to learn to see things non-visually, to use my hands and fingers and
> my other senses to see. My fingers would now become my eyes!
>
>
>
>
>
> Soon, I was feeling my way through and I finished that sweater and donated
> it. Knitting created a breakthrough in my healing process. Knitting gave
> me a beginning place on the pathway to my recovery. Knitting gave me
> hope.
>
>
>
>
>
> Shortly after this healing breakthrough, I was able to go away to attend a
> rehab center for blind people. Of course, I took my knitting along with
> me.
>
>
>
> I knitted my way through the hard days of struggles and the depression of
> trying to re-learn how to do little things that people take for granted.
> When I was feeling overwhelmed and tired for all the learning that I had
> to do each day, I would retreat to my room and pick up my knitting. It
> was my knitting that brought me through those hard times.
>
>
>
> I learned how to put my knitting patterns onto a digital sound device
> called a Milestone. Oh, how I love this little device! With my Milestone,
> I could carry the verbal directions with me and knit anywhere. I learned
> how to put my patterns on a computer so I could "read" them again. I
> learned how to organize my patters in ways that I could access them when I
> needed them.
>
>
>
> By successfully knitting again, I gained confidence in myself and took
> pride in what I could do. For me, knitting was a game changer. I was back
> in the game of knitting and being a creative soul. I continue to
> experience the healing power of knitting as I stretch myself to do
> projects that are beautiful and satisfying. My knitting successes give me
> the confidence I need to once again be the creative person I have always
> been."
>
>
>
> Copyright, 2012. Lynda Lambert. All rights reserved.
>
>
>
>
>
> Lynda Lambert
>
> Lynda Lambert
> 104 River Road
> Ellwood City, PA 16117
>
> 724 758 4979
>
> My Blog: http://www.walkingbyinnervision.blogspot.com
> My Website: http://lyndalambert.com
>
>
>
>
>
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