What I Notice Before I Cast On

What I Notice Before I Cast On

By the time I’m ready to cast on, most of the important decisions have already been made.

Not technical ones — not methods or needle sizes — but quieter decisions. The sort that don’t look like decisions at all until you realise what happens when you skip them.

Before I start, I try to notice what kind of project this actually needs to be.

How much thinking will it ask of me?
How much attention do I realistically have?
Is this something I want to concentrate on, or something I want to rest into?

Early on, I thought the safest thing was to choose the right method. The correct cast on. The proper approach. I believed that if I got those things right, everything else would fall into place.

What I learned instead is that method doesn’t create calm. Judgement does.

When I don’t pause to make these quieter decisions, I notice it later. I hesitate more. I doubt myself. I start checking things that don’t actually need checking. Eventually, I begin to feel as though I’m doing it wrong — even when I’m not.

Nothing has gone wrong. I’ve just skipped the part where I decide what matters.

Once I’ve done that, the technical choices become much simpler. Sometimes I choose the most straightforward method, not because it’s easier, but because it gives me room to notice my work. Sometimes I adapt a pattern slightly, not to improve it, but to make it fit the way I actually knit.

I remind myself that this is yarn. I can change my mind. I can pull it out. I can respond to what I see rather than trying to control everything in advance.

January is a good time for this kind of attention. Not because it’s shiny and new, but because it gives us permission to ask quieter questions before we act.

If you’re stuck before you even begin, it may not be a lack of skill. It may simply be that you haven’t yet decided what this project needs to be for you.

Nessa