Tag Archives: learning

Knitting Socks

22 Thursday Jul 2010

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and lacey things…

I decided to teach myself to knit. I had somewhat of a headstart because relatives had shown me the basics when I was small, but having forgotten most of the details (apart from that it involved looping string through other loops until the long, thin, twisted fibres magically transformed themselves into something wide and flat and warm) I figured that it counted as teaching myself.

The basics were easy, though I was grateful for the fluffiness of the wool which hid some of the early inconsistencies (i.e.: holes and unintended increasing and decreasing).

I knitted bags full of squares using one stitch; knit. Knit knit knit. Turn. Knit knit knit.

I chose the most beautiful balls of colourful wool and knitted each whole ball into a colourful patch, though I had little clue what I would do with them. It was still fun. (These are now half a blanket, it needs resewing properly, but is really funky.)

I knitted scarves, similar principle, knit knit knit, turn, knit knit knit… until you have something long enough to wrap around you and fluffy enough to look pretty. (And done when you’ve made something longer than it is wide, an easily finished project is always a good place to start for me!)

And then I began to wonder what else I could do.

I bought a book. Stitch and Bitch.

Really rather useful. This taught me how to pearl! A new stitch! And it had instructions for picking up dropped stitches, and shared details on how this alchemical process of knitting works. I chose two patterns, bought some wool and spent 18 months knitting a rucksack and a hoody (without a hood, so I guess its just a jumper.)

And then…

I saw a friend knitting socks. I’d heard that they were difficult, she made them look easy. I imagined wearing warm, colourful creations on my feet… and I asked her how she made the heel work.

And then I forgot everything she’d told me. Darn.

Still determined, I found a heelless sock pattern, some chunky red wool, and I made my very own pair of socks!!!

My first Sock! Heelless!

They are too big, and the pattern makes them uncomfortable to wear in shoes… but they’re mine, and they make wonderful slippers! And, to top it off, they remind me of how inspiring my friends can be. Thanks WD!

I’ve learnt that the best way to learn something is just to do it, to pick a pattern and try it out. If it turns out wonky, then I’ve still learnt something!

What have you been putting off? What could you just have a go at?

Now, I’m learning how to make knitting lacey. I undid the first inch five times before it started to make sense (under the patient guidance of the same sock-knitting friend) There are less mistakes with every inch I do, and at the end I’ll have a pretty blue top… even if it is three sizes too small!!!

Lacey Top in Progress

Oh, and one last thing, every time I look over how far I’ve come with these things, I can see how much I’ve learnt, how much my skills have improved (before I started this pattern I’d never knitted holes on purpose before!) I am filled with pride. I know it won’t be perfect, and the mistakes and visible improvement and clear markers of what I am proud of: the fact that I’ve set out to learn something, and I have! Mixed with the pride is profound gratitude; gratitude that I have these opportunities, gratitude for friends that help, gratitude for time to learn, gratitude for everything that gives me the opportunity to learn almost any skill I choose to.

Pride and gratitude. A really good feeling.

What are you proud of? What do you wish you were proud of?

Art class drop out

14 Wednesday Jul 2010

Posted by in Art Craft and Beauty, Creative Process

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When people walk into my room, they often comment on all my art on the wall. They don’t know how I believed I’d never make art like this.

I wear my world on my sleeve, so to speak. I remember hiding in the library at school, half the time I’d be reading stories or books about psychology or religion, the other half of the time I’d be drawing.

I almost failed GCSE art. I dropped out of Art A-level after a month.

I knew I loved making art, and yet I could barely pass the class.

For years I doubted my ability, lacking formal training, how could I really make art? How could I be an artist?!

And still I kept at it. In fits and starts, not so much an undeniable impulse but more like a slowly building pressure, only relieved by the soothing sound of colours stroking the page.

There is, simply, nothing like it.

Once I start, I never want the process to end at the same time as impatiently longing to see the finished picture.

I couldn’t jump through the hoops of formal training because, frankly, I just wanted to make art.

I dropped out of art class after a month.

I wanted the skills, but the formality was destroying me.

When I went to university to study Philosophy I secretly thought I’d left art, sadly, irrevocably, behind me. I could still draw, doodle, play, but I could never really be an artist.

But then I found myself painting, drawing, more and more… I painted my thoughts out for an essay, then wrote the essay based on the painting. Friends loved the art I made, asked me to make piece for them, which sit proudly on their walls.

Somehow, I’d dropped out, and tuned in.

Somehow, as an art-class drop-out, I found I could still be an artist.

I am grateful that I only gave up on my dream for a moment, and, in returning to myself, I find myself here… making art.

It makes me wonder what dreams the people around me have given up on, even if they haven’t realised it. It reminds me why the old cliché exists: it is never too late to do what you love, to be who you are, regardless of what the world might think.

Haunted by Gods

24 Monday May 2010

Posted by in Magic

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I have, in my life, two rather different groups of gods. The Feri gods, and the Others.

I am still in the process of accepting these Others, although my actions tell me that I have, really. The altars, the offerings, the studying of their lore… all actions which say; yes, yes I see you. Yes, you are entering my life, and I am not fighting.

I’m not fighting anymore, but I’m still wary, still scared.

I’ve spent the past few years slowly opening up to the fact that one of Them is present… as gentle as She has been with me.

This year I learnt who the other face, the hidden one, was.

And in opening to this hidden piece, opening rather than hiding as I’ve always done (every night she came I cried out ‘go!’ And she would leave), in opening, I let the others in.

Some are still on the fringes, waiting for the right time. I know now that I cannot simply avoid them, they will arrive when they choose to. For now I am given work to do, to become strong, to learn things that can serve later, though I’m not sure how.

And all this raises questions.

Why did I avoid them? Was I scared of the power I can feel they hold? Was I scared of the reality, the reality in magic that I believe but often doubt? It feels that way. They are real, powerful, capable of turning my life upside down. And yet, they are being oh so gentle with me. This does not match the stories I’ve heard of them from others.

And so now, I doubt. I doubt that they are who I think they are… and then I remember the external confirmations (coincidence some part of me states firmly, I shake it away).  I doubt that they are really interested in me, and wonder if I’m just hoping that I’m useful. And I doubt that any of this will be useful, to anyone.

And here is where the hard lessons come in; trust, surrender, risk.

I heard once that it is better to fight with a sword in both hands and your heart open, than to hide behind a shield.

What else am I doubting? What other powers am I scared of? What is it that will come of this?

So I’m learning to trust, working out a way of building up a relationship with these beings that are entering my life, learning about the things they’ve pointed me towards… and generally finding that everything is enhanced as a result.

And I’m trying not to invite catastrophe by doubting them because my life is still up the right way!

Herbology – Sage

18 Tuesday May 2010

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With a name that means wise-one, and a history of purification, sage seems a good place to start my herbology endeavour.

Salvia officinalis – a grey-ish, wooly-branched shrub.

Traditionally used in Native American Indian smudging ceremonies, so the smell of it burning reminds me of the moment before the magic begins. Therefore, as incense: focussing, purifying, cleanses the space, opens the senses, dedicates the moment.

James Wong’s Grow Your Own Drugs tells me that its good for dealing with coughs, colds and congestion, and hot flushes. My book on Herbal Teas reveals that this last is because sage contains oestrogenic substances.

Herbal Teas also says it is good as a general tonic, is antiseptic, and a general nourishing stimulant.

The booklet accompanying a deck of cards called The Flower Speaks describes sage as a white lion, a teacher, and a cleanser.

I acquired a packet of sage, its scent is familiar from drying bunches years ago and I remember that it is a regular ingrediant in stuffing at Christmas. I pour a small pile into my palm and pour blessing energy into it before placing it into an incense burner. This week I have singed it most days to purify and bless the space and day I am living in.

I made it into tea, and it certainly has wake-up properties, though I’ve found the taste has swiftly become unpalatable (I tend to grow sick of something if I ingest it too often over a short period) so I’m revising my original idea of a cup of herbal tea each day.

Magically it seems well suited, then, to cleansing and stimulating… adding a boost to a spell… or preparing the space/ground for work. Clearing the way.

It has been easy to involve the dried herb in my day, through tea, devotional burning and adding it to cooking. Later I would like to find a live sage plant and engage with it directly!

Herbology

17 Monday May 2010

Posted by in Herbology

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The image of the witch stirring her bubbling cauldron resonates through the ages.

When I first began on the pagan path I gathered bundles of herbs and hung them round my room to dry. I collected jars which filled with deliciously scented green leaves and brightly coloured petals. I occasionally took these jars out, inhaled the contents and then placed them back in their basket.

Once or twice I made up a flying incense, which, strangely, I never thought to burn but instead would breathe in the scent of woodland before meditative journeys. It worked. I wish I could remember the recipe, but I believe the main ingrediants were pine-needles and optimism.

I relocated to Wales, five years ago now, and last summer I threw out the jars of old, dusty herbs that had resided in my Mother’s attic for the time I had been away thus far.

And then, this spring, I began to feel the urge, again, to understand plants. Having passed the initiatory challenge of keeping a houseplant alive for a year this Imbolc, two miniature rose plants no less, I began to feel hopeful that perhaps my history of killing spider plants would no longer count against me. I bought live herbs from the supermarket, the basil thrived for a while, but eventually joined the other two in brown, shrivelled death.*

And still I have the nagging feeling that I really should be learning about plants, learning from plants, learning to use plants. And graduating from ready-mixed dried herbs and black pepper in the kitchen would not be unwelcome either!

Perhaps something to do with the Fey-Queen’s prescence in my life, or perhaps because Idunna finally revealed herself to be one member of my childhood ‘invented’ pantheon (You only had to ask, she reminds me gently, I’d have told you sooner if you’d asked.) Perhaps its the green of Wales finally sinking into my bones, or the garden planted in my heart by elemental guardians. Whichever perhaps, I’ve begun to explore.

The Herbology category will track my posts as I collect information, both book-based and experiential, slowly about the plants I encounter. As a devotional act I am exploring this world of green green things. In gratitude for the information I’ve found online – and to keep myself  both active and accountable – I intend to post my findings here.

Enjoy.

*I also have packets of seeds waiting for when I settle somewhere a little more permanent than 3 months… I will grow a garden one day soon.

Charcoal Sketching

29 Tuesday Dec 2009

Posted by in Art Craft and Beauty

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I’ve had a brown papered sketchbook since the summer, and charcoal for about forever… and yet neither have been used.

I’ve been drawing from my imagination for ages… and often avoid faces because they just never look right.

Putting these two thoughts together and deciding to do something about it, I spent this evening doing these:

Wonder

Thoughtfulness

And they’re ok. Or rather, they’re pretty good, really. I’m just having trouble not seeing all the slightly wrong bits that make them not quite right. Its the old problem of seeing all the faults that most people really won’t notice at all. I’m quite proud of my efforts, especially when I remind myself that its an unfamiliar medium, and an unfamiliar kind of drawing… I just wish I was better already!

Gotta laugh at myself really.

In fact, that warm feeling of finally having tried both charcoal and faces… I might do another one! The longer its been since I did it, the less I feel like its something I’ve done, which is a feeling I get with other artworks too. I look at things I’ve made a month ago and its like someone else made them, which is great because it means I’m happier with them! Does anyone else get that, or is it just me?

Sketches drawn from photos found through Flickr’s interestingness, find them here and here.