I knit to keep death away, casting on to fill the space between birth and death with plains and purls while trying to find a more gracious way to live. I knit to keep cystic fibrosis at bay, to keep spinning my yarn, and singing my song. The while, I learn, and I relearn, that silence doesn’t protect me. Unexpressed life is very painful to myself and to those I love. And so I write. Writing is mostly about letting go and loosening the muscles of the heart and exploring the sphere of abstractions that is life.
Amidst the intricacies of life, there is also joy. I find solace in the rhythm of nature, in the whisper of the wind through the trees, and the song of the snow beneath my skis. Skiing is my sanctuary, a natural way of communing with the world around me. It’s where I find peace, where I feel most alive. Similarly, climbing offers me a profound connection to the earth and my body, a tactile engagement with the vertical world. Each ascent is a journey, a physical and mental challenge that elevates my spirit. A way of pushing limits and embracing the utter thrill of reaching new heights.
And, here I am today, in the story of my life; and this is what I know now, these are the thoughts running through my system, the questions I ask, and the mutuality I seek. Mostly it’s tangled like a skein of yarn the cat got hold of. But amidst the chaos, there is authenticity and realness.
My life collected.
So welcome, dear reader, to this space where vulnerability meets strength, where darkness is illuminated by the light of resilience. Together, let us unravel the threads of existence, finding meaning and solace in the act of creation and connection.
And walk thus, with wondering eyes
From Anna Margolin’s Mari cycle
through great mysterious days and nights
toward the high court,
toward the painful light,
toward oneself
