I thought that the repetitive nature of knit purl, knit knit, a thousand purls, and a thousand knits, the repetitive nature of two clicking needles while staring into a maroon sweater vest as it grows, could possibly lead me to enlightenment, the art of zen turned into the art of knitting, the mantra of ohm turned into the mantra of knit, purl, knit.
Last night I sat for 15 minutes, counting breaths with closed eyes.
Knitting is not practice for meditation.
My mind wandered. It wasn't quiet. It was a speedy little bee buzzing from flower to flower from idea to idea. This was not the mind of someone who practices meditation. This was not the mind that I have felt during a longer stint of a meditation habit.
The only thing that was easy was sitting for 15 minutes. I probably can sit for hours. Actually I am an expert at sitting for hours. Traveling in China and Africa, I have learned how to sit, to wait, to have nothing to do, but sit.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
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