[From a previously unpublished journal of my half-mile knit to the sea begun last May 2012]
8-9 am knit, May 7, 2012. No video today and I felt much freer! The air smelled sweet. G. and R. came by. G. told me she plans to weed under the bench because the grass is going to touch my bum. A man asked me what my knitting rate is…I told him I’m not keeping track. A lady asked, “So you’re just doing this for fun?” “Yes,” I said, “and for lots of other reasons.” I have been thinking about a quote someone told me, “God is in the not,” but I misheard it as “God is in the knot.” The knots of life, the difficulty and struggle but also the coming together of people, the knitting of each knot as a prayer.
I am thinking this project is best documented with still photos. I don’t want 60 hours of video to wade through, can’t depend on my wimpy video battery to last the whole hour, and can’t bear the heartache of missed moments…Making time every day to knit is helping me realize how much time I actually have. It’s expanding “my” time instead of shrinking it. I think Art has spread the word to a lot of the dog walkers about me. 🙂
4-5 pm knit, May 7, 2012. My neighbor D. was out mowing the grass and he mowed under my bench too. He introduced himself and when I told him what I was doing, he gave me a high five and said, “All right!” He invited me to just knock on the door whenever I get thirsty. I also met Sibyl, a slender woman in her 50’s with kind brown eyes. She asked me the meaning behind the piece, and I told her about the name “For Longing” and my longing for the ocean. She said it was really sweet. I tied a stick to the end of the knit line so it wouldn’t blow all over the place. Cars–at least some–are slowing down to go gently over the knitting, and it makes me think of the vulnerability of putting one’s art out in the world. A UPS driver carefully drove on the wrong side of the street to avoid running over the knit line. I pray no one has an accident on account of me! At the end of my sit, D. who was talking on a cellphone on his front step, thanked me twice–I’m not sure why.