One of the blessings of a monastic retreat is silence. This doesn't mean there's no sound. There's actually a lot of sound in the Chama canyon. But it is the sound of things being themselves. The birds chirp, and their wings flutter as they fly. Coyotes howl, sometimes loud enough to drown out prayers. Cows moo. And the rain patters on roofs and trees. What isn't there is noise.
Along with the literal silence is mental silence. Away from the distractions of 'outside' life, I rediscover those parts of my mind that have been busy paying attention to urgent but unimportant matters. And that allows me to see things differently.
Lots of people who knit say they do it to satisfy their creative desires. I always said I knit because I enjoy the process, I certainly don't have any creative leanings. I'm not artistic. I'm techinically proficient, probably more than most knitters. But without guidance, I have no idea what to knit. The times I have made something without any pattern or recipe, I found myself overwhelmed and discouraged by the decisions to be made. (Button band first and collar crosses, or collar first and button band crosses? Ribbed bottom and cuffs or picot hem? Sleeves bottom up or top down? Set in, raglan, drop sleeve?) I couldn't imagine what each option would look like. And I can't draw well enough to sketch something that would help. So I had no idea if the parts would form a pleasing whole until I finished and it was too late to change without starting over. I concluded I was not creative.
Monastery guests are encouraged to work while they are visiting. And that's how I found myself one sunny morning pulling weeds from a garden. It wasn't overgrown. They'd recently put down weed block sheeting, so it was just a few weeds that had taken root in the dirt and gravel over the plastic and they pulled out easily.
Two days later another guest and I swept the floors in the main building and wiped down the wood tables and chairs with lemon oil.
When I think of weeding and sweeping, I don't think 'creative'. Drudgery comes to mind before creativity. But every time I walked past the garden and saw how clean it was, or saw the wood glowing in the sunlight, what I felt was 'I did that, and it's good'.
That, I've decided, is creativity: through conscious effort, changing something to make the world more pleasing.
Now I enjoy knitting even more. I still enjoy the process, and believe it's a form of meditation. But I have a new appreciation for the product. Instead of stalling out on the boring or challenging parts, I push on to get to those moments of, 'I did that, and it's good'.
The other lesson I've learned is how to finish something: Work on it until it's done. Duh.
Since that insight, I've finished 2 pair of gloves, an EZ Tomten jacket for our office manager's new baby, and a lace scarf: all projects that had had been stalled.
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