Dear Melody, does yarn have karma?

This post is in honor of my pal Melody, a knitter and spinner in Baton Rouge I would consider an expert in all things yarn and karma. She would allow me to come into her home when I contemplated just how hard it could be to a young Mother, a crazy wife, and an obsessed inadvertent spinner of dog hair. ;) If you can't meet Mel, read "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell," and come for a walk up a mountain with me, or a walk through the streets of Edinburgh.

This morning a few minutes were spent packing some prezzies for shipment, and contemplating how I'm flirting with "superstition as valid?" more as I get older.

We have an interesting social not-coincidence in our family. My Mother, now deceased, was graced with a beautiful (gorgeous in every way) friend as they raised their children together for 27 years. This friend's daughter is a mere fifty days older than me (and a year older right now, ha!, old lady!), and we've been growing up together for quite some time (for 32 years, since nursery school). Mom's friend is an amazing knitter, recently swiping a mess of top ribbons at her local county fair (in Rhinebeck, folks!). I packed up for her an extra skein of Socks that Rock I can't use, a skein that was meant for a friend, but as one friend wound up not fitting in the niche of "sock recipient," the yarn lay fallow (she moved, can't measure the feet, but she regrets not having learned to knit, ha!), and seems destined to return to my homeland (Hudson Valley, NY).

[Note: I can see how Stitch gets tired of my stories, as the above does seem like too much information as I was simply trying to get to the point, "yarn destined for friends is destined for friends" regardless. This karma seems to balance out.]

I was given some the high-end sock yarn (Lorna's Laces) by another friend years ago, in the relationship stage when knitting friends are forging new friendships, learning each other's favorite ice cream flavor, needle brand, and discipline technique for malcontent toddlers. I started knitting up Jackie E-S's Frienship Circle socks out of this colorway last June. Somehow the colors, the pattern, the relationship (no longer active, everyone has moved) don't fit in the fabric I consider the backdrop of my life. I reballed up the yarn, and sent it to a different knitting friend that seems more in parallel with the colorway. But does the baggage of an extinct friendship get passed over to a different friend when you rewind the yarn? God, I hope not.

And my pal up the hill played sock fairy with the most gorgeous skein of Socks That Rock, in a shade of pale Orange that radiates like the sun, the warm sun you feel from the inside. No longer able to stand the skein inactive (regardless of what else is on the mind and on the needles), I wound up for a pair of socks this morning. This yarn has energy and radiance I don't think I've experienced in a yarn before. I hope to give it grace, and feel like the knitting will be a significant experience reflected in this most recent stage of my knitting life & relationships.

[Note to all friends and family: I've become incredibly sappy lately. Sorry about that.]

That's all for now. Whaddaya think? Can the karma of a yarn be passed down, for better or for worse? Textiles create a most understandable nexus: the tactile, the intellectual, the social, the spiritual, and, well, stitch them together. (As trite as that sounds, said one thousand times before, I have to say it outloud regardless, so thank you for induldging me.)

You'll see me more

because I'm taking an online course right now, so I'll be on the computer more. The end of July, and August, have been absolutely insane, what with teaching full-time and a grad class starting, and hopes for a rekindled exercise routine. I put me own new spanky nobbly tires on my touring bike. But I have homework to do, so for now I leave you with a poem I cannot get out of my head. I found it in a children's poetry book, and it resonates after delightful time in San Diego.

e.e. cummings is one of my favorites. Maybe I'll post others for fun discussion from time to time.

maggie and milly and molly and may
by E. E. Cummings
10 maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea