I love to knit. I am a fickle knitter to be sure and not the most skilled at that, but I love it. Leave me alone in a room with my knitting and I will knit you the longest lumpy scarf you ever saw. I knit because it makes me feel good, and usually only between the months of November and March. The itch to knit begins as sure as I start to crave chocolate chip pumpkin muffins. As soon as the icy winds of November start to whip, an ancient impulse like geese flying south, reaches out for needles and yarn. I actually start to crave the way the needles click in my hands and the way the yarn purrs thickly out its ball. The relief it gives me. At home when my nervous system is activated by any given circumstance, children brawling, my lovely husband, my adorable puppy, I sit down and start to knit. Click, click, breathing in and out. I knit quite often. Go figure. Ok I’m no saint, I don’t do this every time and maybe I start to knit after a mommy explosion or two. But I hardly ever do that :) But seriously I imagine my Irish ancestors, a dozen or more little curly haired children climbing the walls, I really get the need to sit down and knit in the center of chaos. Yes those kids needed socks but the satiating feeling and exquisite repetition of the woolen stitches, for me temporarily brings order to the chaos. Plus you can still tell people what to do from your cozy chair by the fire.

There was a time I was researching some of my Gaelic lineage, particularly Welsh and Irish. So many of the old photographs I ran across, I would say the vast majority of them, the women were standing on their front porch holding their knitting or carrying huge baskets of pete back from the marshes, knitting. Was this out of necessity? Or did it bring a calm and a rhythm to a hard days work. t I have to surmise that in part it may have been a soothing practice, with a necessary outcome. Sometimes for me I just want my knitting close to me for the comfort it brings. Just the coolness of the needles and the soft yarn make me feel a bit more at ease. By no means is my life as physically difficult as these salt of the earth farm women. These women were experts at their crafts and the added skill and artistry they brought had to fill them with a feeling of deep satisfaction; watching little Maggie running around in the fields wearing that gorgeous sweater with carved wooden buttons, magic. Did they see it that way? Or did they just feel it in their bones and carry on the way they needed to. In this tangent I am only relaying my own minute research through my bloodlines, but if we wanted to dive into the weaving work of women across the world, that could be a wondrous collection of books unto themselves. In fact I would love to write those books. But back to the subject at hand.

My grandmother taught me some knitting basics as a child, but I didn’t pick it up again until I felt that internal autumnal tug in college. Now that I have spent some years with the craft and am able to get in a flow state, even if you couldn’t pay me to follow a pattern I am reaping deep internal benefits. The first and most immediate is what I have previously spoken to. Knitting heals the brain in so many ways. When I am in a fight or flight state in my nervous system, which I believe I have been in and out of since adolescence, knitting actually is able to bring my brain back into a parasympathetic state; the place where we feel safe, relaxed and more fluid. This is so amazing to me! Who cares if none of you will be getting sweaters for Christmas from me this year. Knitting brings my brain back into a place of safety and relaxation. In this place of flow that so many report when knitting and other forms of crafting as well, higher levels of happiness are reported, decreased anxiety, lowered depression and even lowered inflammation. (J. Brody, The Health Benefits of Knitting; New York Times)

Knitting is zen. For me it is a beautiful repetitive prayer. When I knit I can feel the women in my line that have come before me. I can feel them way back. All of our hands click, click, clicking, making something new. I often pray while I knit. I feel knitting is something akin to ‘saying the beads’ as my Irish Catholic grandmothers would. Chanting using the mala or japamala is another example of this repetitive meditation practice used in many spiritual practices throughout India. All of these practices brilliantly move the practitioner into flow and into a ‘in the moment’ experience activating their parasympathetic nervous system.

I am quite certain that we all have stories of particularly the women if not a few men in our line that knit. The aunties and grandmothers that knit through my family tree live on through the craft that they so loved. A dear auntie of mine passed away last year. Her passing was difficult and abrupt and the grief is strong through our family for her. My mom and Aunt Barb went to college together. She would always tell about how Aunt Barb would knit through all of their Biology classes. She would pause to take notes and just keep knitting away. While my mom remembers dozing off frequently and her notes sliding off the page Barb was awake and engaged, needles clicking. She continued this practice through church each Sunday throughout her life. Barb was a lifelong knitter. She knit her three children, nieces and nephews, and later grandchildren beautiful things. She told me how she would stay up late in the night where her children were small to sew and craft dresses for her daughter. I exclaimed 'Oh how exhausting'. She said, 'No it was for my sanity. I had to do something for me'. She was a craftswoman and artisan, homeschooling and homesteading for many decades. I can't think of knitting without thinking Aunt Barbie.

After giving birth to my daughter Abigail I was wrapped in an orange woolen afgan my great grandmother Audry crocheted. This blanket was passed down to me from my grandmother and is one of my treasured possessions. My children now love to curl up in it. It is clear that this heavy blanket holds more than warmth. It is not the softest of our blankets or the prettiest but it is the most fought over. Grammie Audry's loving work is wrapping up her great great grandchildren. I'm sure she is tickled.

When I knit I am also honoring the women of my bloodlines. The women who had to knit for their children to stay warm that winter. When I knit I am healing my own short circuiting nervous system. I am creating new neural pathways. I am actively healing trauma that has been passed down through blood lines that informs my own nervous system about how safe I feel in the world. When I knit I am teaching my children that even if mommy explodes when the puppy pees on my white down comforter for the THIRD time, that I have the tools to repair. I can come back from a feeling of overwhelm at the chaos of the house and the occasional or sometimes not so occasional turmoil of family. I can REPAIR. That means I can shift from my sympathetic nervous system to my parasympathetic nervous system. Hands on my heart, I am safe, take a walk, cry in the bathroom. Knit, damnit, knit. Have you ever rage knit? I highly recommend it. It’s strangely satisfying. But what I was getting at is teaching my kids that while I am a far cry from perfection, I have the ability to repair and therefore they do too. Lately for me the nervous system is everything. When we feel safe we are capable of anything. When we are functioning from the sympathetic nervous system our heart rates are up, we are tense, activated and rigid. This is happening now more than ever for many. Especially if trauma has been experienced in your lifetime or lineage, which let’s be real, that’s everyone. It is our job to learn to repair. Even if it takes many hours or several days.

Knowing we have the tools to function from our parasympathetic nervous system more often changes everything. More spaciousness in parenting, in relationship, don’t get me started. I’m just daydreaming now about what it would be like to not be so activated all the time. My own nervous system is fragile and has been through alot. If I have been in a conflict, even a small one, it can take me a whole day if not two to come back to parasympathetic functioning. Dancing, knitting, physical connection, baths, tears and hands on my heart are my go tos for coming back. What tools do you use to repair in your life? What is the state of your nervous system at this moment? How long does it take you to come back to center after an activating moment or experience?

Now I watch my five year old son taking pride in his knitting. At home we sit together and knit. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. It only lasts a few minutes. He inevitably wanders or gets frustrated. But he also practices coming back to it after taking a break from frustration. He’s learning to keep going. Praise be, the boy who has struggled with big angry feelings at the past few years is growing more peaceful, he is learning to repair.

I have a deep hope and prayer that in this generation many of us can learn to steer our nervous systems healthfully through stormy waters. That we remember a deep sense of ease, flow and safety that our parasympathetic nervous system function offers. I can feel the knitting circle of ancestor grandmothers agree, this is the way forward. One nervous system healing, prayer filled stitch at a time.

With Love,

Jamie

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