Flow is a term used in hooping (well, probably used in a lot of different areas) for how one moves with the hoop. The movements, the dance, the tricks, the vibe – how it all comes together in an artistic form of self-expression. I’ve always struggled with finding mine in hooping, and I didn’t know it existed in knitting. This week, I’m learning some new things.
For whatever reason, I stepped away from the hoops sometime in March. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just noticed one day that I hadn’t really been hooping. That realization, however, didn’t cause me to get back to it. I just never really felt like it. When I thought about it, it made me sad in a way. How could I not want to do something I’ve grown to love over the past 11 months since I started? Was all the time, effort and money I put into hooping now a waste? Why do I get so obsessed with something, do it to death and then drop it like it’s a bad habit infecting my life? Why can’t I do things in moderation?
Okay, so those were the thoughts going through my head. Over-react much, Shelley? Finally, I said to myself, “Get a grip. You haven’t abandoned hooping forever. You’re going through a phase. As you yourself have blogged, to everything there is ebb and flow. You’re ebbing now on the hoop thing, but you’ll flow with it again.” I gave myself permission to feel that not hooping is okay. And it is.
A week or two ago, I felt the urge to hoop again. However, I questioned the reason for that urge (real desire or guilt?) because although I expressed to myself a desire to hoop, I didn’t take the time to make it happen. Was it really that important to me? Well, since then I did pick up the hoop again. During the first session or two, I wasn’t really feeling it. I mean, I felt lost. I felt like I couldn’t remember have the tricks I knew how to do. I felt like I had absolutely no flow – even “bad flow” would be preferable to no flow. I focused on some moves and practiced, I just danced a bit. Nothing seemed to make a spark.
The other day I hooped for 20 minutes or so and again, I felt like I was going nowhere with it. So, I glanced through my Hoop City class notebook and saw my page of notes for Sandra’s combinations from the Seeding 1 class. Hmmm, it had been awhile since I practiced those. I started with Combo 1, which only involves 5 simple moves. However, it had been awhile. I was rusty. I made mistakes. So, for the next 20 minutes all I did was work on that combination. I worked on it going to the left (my natural current) and to the right (my non-natural current). You know what? It started to feel really good. Once I had a focus, I felt some flow coming back. I made mistakes, I dropped the hoop A LOT (especially considering how easy the moves are), but I felt good. I’m going to continue until I have it (nearly) perfect and then move on to combo 2. I think this might be a good way to get my hoop mojo back. There’s a lot of talk in hooping about everyone needing to find their own flow, do their own thing, yada yada yada. Sometimes it ain’t happening. Sometimes someone else has to tell you how and where to move. Sometimes it’s best not to leave yourself to your own devices.
First flow lesson of the week learned? If you can’t find your own flow, borrow someone elses for awhile!
Now, how does flow apply to knitting? Actually I had no idea that it did until the other day when I was working on the Garmin cozy for my mother-in-law, which is knit in the round on DPNs. I still haven’t quite gotten over the thrill of being able to use DPNs, and when I was happily knitting away I noticed that I lost track of time, how I focused totally and completely on my knitting and just generally got lost in it. I realized, I was in flow. Wow.
Now normally if pressed to think about it, I’d think flow in knitting would be when one is very comfortable doing what they’re doing. They’re knitting adeptly and with ease. There isn’t a lot of conscious effort going into it, the stitches are just flying off the needles, almost as if by their own accord. But you know what? I don’t think that’s it. I mean, I think that can be it. I think you can definitely get into a “knitting zone” or Zen-type session when the needles almost seem to work themselves like magic, but what’s more probable, in my opinion, is that knitting like that might be more like being on auto pilot. Knitting like that probably means your mind is free to wander at will. One could watch TV, hold an in-depth conversation or do anything else with the mind or the rest of the body. The knitting seems to be taking care of itself.
The flow I’m noticing I’m experiencing is born of not yet being totally comfortable with knitting, especially on DPNs. When I knit, especially with DPNS, I have to focus. Sure, I can keep one ear tuned into the TV, or I can listen to those around me talk and give short answers back, but basically the bulk of my attention has to be focused on what I’m doing with my hands, the sticks and the string. I have to mentally tell myself whether to knit or purl. I have to be conscious of making sure to move the working yarn in the right direction around the needle. I have to stop to count stitches. In short I have to be very wrapped up in what I am doing. One would think that all this mental effort (not to mention the physical effort of moving the needles and yarn) would mean that there was no flow. That what I was doing was more active and more like work. I find, however, that that’s not what it is. When I knit, my focus on it takes over. For the most part, I forget what’s going on around me (or largely tune it out), I forget any life issues I’m dealing with or those constant nagging thoughts that always seem to run through one’s head. I lose track of time. All conscious thought is focused on what I am doing, and once in awhile I stop and think, “This is it. I’m in flow.” I find it amazing. Flow seems like it should be a more natural state, like it should be effortless, like it should be . . . well, I don’t know . . . more flow-y. With my knitting, though, that’s not what it is.
I’m reading Adrienne Martini’s book, Sweater Quest (which, by the way, is fabulous, and I’m enjoying it very much), and interestingly shortly after I realized that yes, I do have a flow in knitting, I got to the part in the book where Ms. Martini discuss the very concept of knitting flow. Her idea if is or her flow is slightly different from mine, but part of what makes up flow is that it’s different for everyone. Yea! Confirmation. It’s not just me. There really is a flow in knitting!
Second flow lesson of the week learned? There IS such a thing as flow in knitting, and I can now recognize mine!
Finally, a parting thought on flow and how it manifests itself. A. It’s different for everyone not matter what they are doing. Part of flow is that it’s a very individual thing. B. For me, flow in knitting is very different from flow in hooping. Hooping flow to me has more of that natural, organic feel. When I find flow (whether it’s my own or someone elses) it comes easy. I move from one trick to the next without a lot of conscious thought. It’s like my body, while not on auto pilot because I’m definitely attuned and thinking about what I’m doing, is working the hoop of its own accord. I’m not putting a ton of conscious thought into what should come next; things are just coming. With knitting, there is a whole lot of conscious thought going into the process, but it’s the conscious thought that consumes me and puts me into that somewhat Zen state of “flowing” with the knitting. I find these differences so interesting.
Off to look at more things I do that have a flow! The possibilities, I’m sure, are endless.