Well... just because, that's why.

Because it's beautiful.

I had an interesting conversation over a spinning wheel and a piece of chocolate cake. My friend asked the spinner, "Is it more economical to make your own yarn?" The spinner, who was turning some beautifully dyed roving into yarn so easily it looked like it was spinning itself, hesitated. I could see her working out how to answer the question.

I knew how to answer the question: No. Of course not. Even if you buy your own sheep and do everything yourself, the hours and hours of work alone make it less economical than going to a store and picking up a ball of yarn. You can buy ready-to-spin roving, but then you're paying someone else to do the work and you still have the time involved in spinning the yarn.

But the money is not the point.

It is the joy of the craft that is the point. It is making something with your own hands, knowing what to do and how, pride of ownership of a skill, and the blissful release that happens when your hands are busy and your mind roams free. Creation, any creation at all, feels good.

Dump a mound of playdoh on the table in front of some children and watch it happen. Turn a gardener loose in a garden. Give a kid (supervised) free-reign in a woodworking shop. Buy a knitter a few balls of beautiful yarn. Paint and paper. Fabric and sewing kit. A camera. Silverware and a vise. Glue and scissors. Pencil and notebook. Heck, what happens with ceramic glue, a stack of unused tea cups and an afternoon with no interruptions?

Beauty happens.

Creation can cost as much or as little as you chose, but economics is never, really,  the point.


What have you created lately? Making something with your hands is a great stress reliever. What do you do when the Muse hits?

The yarn pictured above is beautiful Noro Taiyo sock yarn that I bought at The Needle Emporium in Ancaster, Ontario. The pattern is called Drop City Scarf and is available on Ravelry.com here. The stitch markers were made by me after a plastic one destroyed a section of knitting. I made them using some beads I accidentally bought years ago and some old charms I had in my jewelry box.

Guilty!

If your life looks like this, perhaps it's time to rethink.

Last week a woman who'd known me for six hours told me I take on too much.

I countered by listing off my few commitments. When I reached a third hand's worth of fingers, I began to wonder if she had a point.

So last night I joined a new craft guild, offered to be their co-chair and to plant a portion of my vegetable garden with spring wheat for a special craft day in July.

I woke up three times during the night with a panic attack.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do any of us? Why is it so damn hard to be good to ourselves and say no?

Is it because I want so much to be liked? Because I have a pathological need to, forgive me, take care of everyone except myself? Because I think NO ONE can (insert activity here) as well as I can?

Does 'why' even matter? Fact is, when you say 'yes' to everyone but yourself, a roomful of Lego is the least of your problems. If there's so much writing on your calendar that you can't actually identify the month, you may want to do what I've decided to do.

Start saying 'no'. Pare down your commitments to those that really matter, to those volunteer positions that you find rewarding and enjoyable, to those activities that build you up rather than breaking you down.

And sleep well.