The importance of a thread
On maintaining contact
I’ve just returned from a wonderful family holiday in the Uk, arranged around the graduation of our daughter at the University of East Anglia. While there, we spent a few sunny days in Keswick in the Lake District, literally next door to a meadow full of sheep. My granddaughter learned about the connection between sheep and wool through the song, “Baa baa black sheep”, and I relished the bucolic sounds of sheep bleating outside my bedroom window at dusk and dawn.
Before I left, I gave thought to which knitting project I would take. There would be a lot of time for handwork while waiting at airports, travelling in the car and relaxing in our accommodation. In the past, I’ve packed a couple of balls of DK [double knitting] yarn and size 4,5mm needles to make squares for charity blankets. This time, though, I wanted to work on something more substantial. Having just started on my Flax sweater in natural fibre, I considered taking that with me, then thought better of it because the wool is so fine. I decided instead to begin work on a pattern called the “Simple Sweater” from Tin Can Knits, and to make it out of the same yarn as I use for my squares.
The project proved more useful than I anticipated. On the third day, I began to develop flu symptoms, which made me very tired. I treated myself with over-the-counter medication but the sinus pain continued and soon I had developed an irritating cough. The result of not feeling well was that I took several opportunities to stay at the house when the others went exploring. Had I not been occupied with the sweater, I would have been miserable about missing out on so much of the holiday, but as it was, I really enjoyed the time I spent alone. I knew that I would not be good company if I were exerting myself in the sun with the others, and knitting kept me calm and cheerful for meals and evening excursions.
I would like to say that my symptoms eased as the holiday progressed, but they didn’t. I travelled home with a horrible post-nasal drip, which prevented me from being able to eat on the aeroplane for fear of having a coughing fit in my seat and causing distress to those sitting around me. Things didn’t improve when I returned home, and by the third day I was convinced that the symptoms were allergy-related, since no-one else in my family had succumbed to flu in spite of me being around them for almost two weeks. Perhaps the pollen load in England had given me hay fever. Perhaps the yarn from my knitting project, which typically lay at my feet in the car, or in the lounge, or wherever we happened to be sitting, had become contaminated with cat hair, or dust, or some other allergen. Whatever the case, it was the only thing that could explain why neither the medication nor the change of location had made any difference to the severity of my symptoms. Accordingly, I removed the needles, placed the sweater and yarn into a mesh bag, and washed it. Then I went back to working on my Flax sweater and waited to see if my sinuses would clear.
By this time, I felt exhausted. As I pushed my food listlessly around my plate one evening, I reflected that eating felt like too much effort. My eyes were compromised by my headache, and I kept failing to spear my sausage with my fork.
It was then that a rather profound thought struck me. I never have this kind of problem when I’m knitting. There’s always a thread to connect my hands to my work. Even when the yarn gets tangled or I have to unpick a row, I can find my place by following the thread and “reading” its position in relation to the needles.
This brings me to the importance of threads to life in general. Being connected by a thread means having a way of orientating yourself in space. Unfortunately, the word “thread” has become rather distorted by the Threads social networking app. Users post graphics and text to followers who may or may not be online to see them, highlighting how tenuous the relationship between those who send messages and those who receive them actually is. The world of advertising is, likewise, full of trailing ends. Think of the bank that claims to be “here for you”, the supermarket chain that “celebrates your loyalty”, and the soft drink brand that “gives you what you want”. These kind of “threads” make me think of a tattered flag, its torn edges all frayed and floating in the breeze.
The value of a thread is in its secure connections at both ends. This is what enables it to create a fabric, relationship, or functional system. Movement at one end of the thread places a demand on the object at the other end to move. Thus, the possibility exists for the two objects to follow each other, lead each other, pull against each other, inform each other, or simply be aware of each other. What they cannot do, however, is drift away from each other. This is true whether we’re talking about my hand being connected to my knitting, or one’s heart being connected to the journey of a character in a story. It’s all about attachment. Attachment reduces randomness and increases order.
Finally, if you’re wondering about how I’m doing health wise, I’m happy to report that things are improving. A visit to the dentist to investigate pain in my jaw revealed that my teeth were aching because of referred pain from infected sinuses. The dentist prescribed antibiotics and painkillers, which instantly made a difference. I hadn’t believed my symptoms could be caused by sinusitis because I had suffered no fever, but evidently the condition can exist without it. What a pleasure to be on the mend and feeling stronger!