An exercise of will, part 2
14/1/12 15:18![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkemeraldsToday I'm knitting. Knitting is part of my Big Plan For Self-Improvement In 2012.
It's taken years, but I've finally accepted that "self-improvement" doesn't mean changing what I am. It means being better at what I am.
Well, what I am, among other things, is a craftswoman, and I like knitting. So I've decided that 2012 is the year I become as good a knitter in reality as I am in my imagination
I've defined four knitting skills* I want to master, and four big projects** that those skills will help me achieve this year.
My first proving ground is an Aran-style cardigan, which I started in November. Last night I finished the second sleeve, and this morning I looked at those sleeves in the proverbial cold light of day.
It wasn't a happy moment.
I told myself some stories about how I could make them work. Tight forearms could be a style statement...yeah! Nobody will notice the weird leg-o'mutton line of the shoulder...right?
I argued with myself for fifteen minutes before I finally admitted that the sleeves were simply wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. A month's worth of knitting, wasted.
In The Practicing Mind, Thomas Sterner proposes a simple model for any practice, drawn from Buddhist tradition: Do, Observe, Correct.
Well, I'd Done, and, like most hurried Westerners, I was about to Re-Do. I always just Re-Do. It is the slowest, most inefficient way to improve at anything, but it's the way our entire society seems to favor. "Again! Repeat! Go-go-go!" We hurry to do it wrong one more time. Only the naturally gifted move ahead, while we sacrifice loads of potential talent on the altar of haste.
Just as I was about to start ripping those sleeves out, something went *ping*. It said, "Slow down. You're about to make the same mistakes again."
So before I raveled a single stitch, I Observed. I checked my math and found my error. I measured everything again. I acknowledged a second problem with the sleeves that I'd been ignoring. I photographed, annotated, and Evernoted. I updated my written pattern.
Then I ripped the sleeves back to the shoulders and started them all over again.
This time, all the uncertainty and wild-ass guesswork of the careless first Doing are gone. This is Correction, and I know it, and so the work is calmer, more confident, more regular. Faster, even. It's better.
I think I'm beginning to understand these magical people who consistently produce high-quality work without angst. I think I might be able to become one of them.
It's about time.
*matching increases and decreases, Kitchener grafting and bind-off, short-row shaping, top-down raglan shoulders
**Two cardigans, a jacket, and possibly a pullover.
It's taken years, but I've finally accepted that "self-improvement" doesn't mean changing what I am. It means being better at what I am.
Well, what I am, among other things, is a craftswoman, and I like knitting. So I've decided that 2012 is the year I become as good a knitter in reality as I am in my imagination
I've defined four knitting skills* I want to master, and four big projects** that those skills will help me achieve this year.
My first proving ground is an Aran-style cardigan, which I started in November. Last night I finished the second sleeve, and this morning I looked at those sleeves in the proverbial cold light of day.
It wasn't a happy moment.
I told myself some stories about how I could make them work. Tight forearms could be a style statement...yeah! Nobody will notice the weird leg-o'mutton line of the shoulder...right?
I argued with myself for fifteen minutes before I finally admitted that the sleeves were simply wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. A month's worth of knitting, wasted.
In The Practicing Mind, Thomas Sterner proposes a simple model for any practice, drawn from Buddhist tradition: Do, Observe, Correct.
Well, I'd Done, and, like most hurried Westerners, I was about to Re-Do. I always just Re-Do. It is the slowest, most inefficient way to improve at anything, but it's the way our entire society seems to favor. "Again! Repeat! Go-go-go!" We hurry to do it wrong one more time. Only the naturally gifted move ahead, while we sacrifice loads of potential talent on the altar of haste.
Just as I was about to start ripping those sleeves out, something went *ping*. It said, "Slow down. You're about to make the same mistakes again."
So before I raveled a single stitch, I Observed. I checked my math and found my error. I measured everything again. I acknowledged a second problem with the sleeves that I'd been ignoring. I photographed, annotated, and Evernoted. I updated my written pattern.
Then I ripped the sleeves back to the shoulders and started them all over again.
This time, all the uncertainty and wild-ass guesswork of the careless first Doing are gone. This is Correction, and I know it, and so the work is calmer, more confident, more regular. Faster, even. It's better.
I think I'm beginning to understand these magical people who consistently produce high-quality work without angst. I think I might be able to become one of them.
It's about time.
*matching increases and decreases, Kitchener grafting and bind-off, short-row shaping, top-down raglan shoulders
**Two cardigans, a jacket, and possibly a pullover.
(no subject)
16/1/12 02:55 (UTC)I took to knitting because the possibilities for actual clothing seemed greater, as the fabric it can produce is more versatile.
Both crafts are wonderfully relaxing and have their uses and their avid advocates, and Ravelry is a great place to encounter them all!