Skip to content

Imagine

I’ve been working on my creative visualisation — and by “working on”, I mean “trying to reduce the volume by which I decry as bunkum”.  I’m a bit of a hippie at heart, as well as an optimist at stomach, so you would think I’d be all over creative visualisation like a cat on a basket of clean towels. But it really, really isn’t working.

Example A: The Mama Moth shawl.  I love this project: the pattern is interesting and satisfying, the person I’m making it for is guaranteed to either love it or give such a convincing display of loving it that I’ll never know, and the needles and yarn are a perfect match of slickety-slick knitty goodness.  But I’m kinda feeling antsy about getting it to the recipient and I’m beginning to reflect on all the other projects that want seeing to.  However, despite all the time I spend daydreaming about blocking, wrapping and presenting this delicious project (and my daydreams are getting ridiculously complex and involve the presentation of the gift endlessly enriching the recipient’s life), it still seems to be on the needles. Curious. All the creative visualisation in the world doesn’t seem to be transforming this project into a flawless, wrapped gift.

Example B: I keep visualising what it would be like to have no projects on the needles.  None.  Can you imagine? A completely blank slate, project-wise. This idea is totally titillating me, even though I can’t quite imagine it.  Despite the time I spend imagining this devoutly-wish’d consummation, here’s my knitting in-box:

Yowza. I keep imagining myself casting on something totally bold and new — I even try and enhance the visualisation by heading over to the yarn cupboard and having a long hard lookylook.  Sometimes I even fondle some of my yarn and think about what I would make with it if I wasn’t just visualising. And yet, there doesn’t seem to be any change whatsoever to that piled-up in-box. Look, here’s another picture:

No change.

I’m beginning to suspect that this creative visualisation stuff is blithery-poop.  Maybe I’m not doing it hard enough.  Or loud enough.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *