Didn't I see this embroidered on a Mary Engelbreit hand-towel about fifteen years ago? Or perhaps it was a Goethe chapter in a philosophy text book.
Still, it's true. We are. It's especially important to remember this when we make big changes, big moves, seemingly strange commitments.
I could wax poetic for hours about major life changed and pretend I am a life coach and cheer on those of us who bravely take a leap into the unknown, and how the brave are rewarded and change is good for a stronger spirit, but I'd rather lie in bed longer than I should. Or knit a hat. Or a bunny.
Change is hard and saying farewell to the comfortable seems like nothing but a ridiculous mistake made too late to take back. Until one day you are at the library checking emails because your new home isn't wireless just yet, and you run into a woman you've met only a handful of times in previous visits. She greets you, all 4'11" of her, and randomly asks if you knit.
"Are you kidding? Other than sleep, that's all I do," you want to respond, but the proper communicator in you is aware this would be an inappropriate answer.
"Why yes, I do," is all you say.
"Good. Be here Friday at 2. There is a knitting group who would love to have you."
So you go hom and take stock of the yarn and the books and the bags of projects, and think that what you could use is something new, something beautiful, something shiny. Something warm because this new place in the Pacific Northwest is so cold. A sweater perhaps. Something comfortable.
