Strangeness

“You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you strange.” – Phil Harrold, att. Leander Harding, att. Flannery O’Connor.

Knitting again has been… strange. The “normal” people who surround me interpret my relationship with knitting as somewhere in between an obsession and a lifestyle choice, and I’m not even sure where I’d categorize it myself.

But for the most part, unless I mentioned it to them (because “So, what are you giving up for Lent?” counts in seminary as a conversation starter), I don’t think most of my fellows really noticed that I gave up knitting. To them, I wasn’t giving up some normal and positive engagement; giving up knitting meant I started acting normal. And normality makes you a little more invisible. Knitting all the time, whether in class or meetings or whatever, made me stand out – giving knitting up meant that I didn’t stand out.

So being back at it has gotten some reactions. Most of my friends get that it’s a big deal for me, and offer congratulations or some other suitably easter-y sentiment. Fellow knitters have given me that conspiratorial nod that says “I understand completely.” But I feel weird. I’ve always liked to fit in – a lot. I’ve always considered myself socially adaptable, because I’d rather feel comfortable than stand out. But knitting is just something I enjoy more than fitting in, I guess. Is my faith like that? Would I rather be invisible?

Anyway, on that note, some strange and wild socks: “Flammegarn Socks” from Folk Socks. They’ll be for both April and May, because for goodness sake, I have so many real deadlines that I am so over killing myself for my made-up deadlines. Knit from my new Merino/Nylon Sock Yarn in “Fallscape.”