A few words of heartfelt introduction…
Mel Hunt has a quiet, calm about her that is intriguing. She carries with her a sense of composure that is both compelling and reassuring. While working at Mercury Studio for the past month I have see her frequently, Mel is a beacon. She is solid not solemn, her smile lights up a room, her fantastic posture makes one want to straighten-up and sharpen one’s own gait. She moves with the whispery, grace of a dancer.
One of the great things about a co-working arrangement is it encourages engagement in a way that an ordinary office might not. There is no hierarchy to abide by. No rules governing interaction. No set business between us. Our conversation and interest in each other grew much more organically. Nurtured by a shared love of life.
Real life is not a guarantee of ease. Life offers work, embrace it.
Here Mel shares a meditation of her own on finding love in what one is working on and working with, “The Spirit of Worklove.”
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The Spirit of Worklove
Every time I pulled out a piece of knitting, I crowed and ripped to my heart’s content, ripped for the sheer joy of it. My husband looked on first in dismay at all that work lost, then laughed at my delight.
Tugging on yarn, thread, ribbon, fabric. I began to love every metaphor that had to do with winding or textile. Stitch by stitch, breath by breath, knit one, slip, slip, knit. This is how I learned to meditate. Through the count, the rhythm, the sense of soft yarn flowing through my fingers, over and off needles and growing into cloth. Soothing, steady. Stitch by stitch, knit two, yarn over, slip, slip, knit.
The unknitting, the opposite of meditation or maybe simply the other side of it — the ripping out that came from racing along too fast or misreading, dropped stitches, markers of breaks in my attention. The pulling out, is just like knitting in reverse, except not at all, and I loved it too. Pulling hand over fist, yarn flowing fast and furious, cloth jumping and dancing its way back into string. On one side all order and counting, rhythm and pattern, on the other chaos and kinks, piles and piles of tangled string.
I sought out the ties that wound knitting through the history of my family. I unwound that tapestry and cherished every piece of fabric, every blanket, every doll jacket, every sweater and all the stories, the memories, the experiences that they represented. Each made, individually, by a person, a family member, a woman and her needles all sizes, shapes, and colors.
I wound and un-wound, marveling at how it took me more than 30 years to connect with these parts of myself. Grateful, wondering, I followed other passions, other threads, assembled other scraps of fabric, ribbons and string, knit together, connections made, because of this one.
And I am still following. Unraveling. Winding and unwinding, knitting and ripping, and beginning again.
“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”— Henry Ellis
What threads have you been pulling on?
What ties you to the heart of who you are and to those you call your family?
What’s in your heart that you want to work on? Be it knit or unravel…
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