Doing away with the "f" word.

A little peek at the project I'm working on. It's slow, careful, purposeful knitting. I resisted at first, it was daunting and frustrating (and it surely will continue to be), but I've slowly come to depend on the challenge. To crave it. Seeing the small details take shape keeps the momentum moving forward. Looking back on the hurdle, I can say I always knew I could jump it. But while it still lay ahead, the tall road-block becomes a symbol for the doubt and fear that keep me from moving forward.
Elide Endreson's wise words here have been on my mind a bit lately. I have a large bin full of knitting projects that are unfinished. Some I've lost interest in, put down to move on to new, more exciting ventures. Some haven't worked the way I intended, and need a little re-assessment. Some are even projects that are fully knit and I just have to sew a few seams and weave in the tails. Whatever the reason, their fate is the same. Buried in a closet to be forgotten.
In physics, the ideal work output is that which is greater than the energy used to create the work. But in a creative endeavor, can we reasonably expect the same ideal? So much of our energy goes into the creation, from inception to completion, the ideal work output seems unlikely, however great our product is.
I've always loved knitting more than I love the knitted object, and I think that's an important distinction, one I need to remind myself of sometimes. The finished product is not why I knit, so I don't need it to be greater than the energy I used to create it. But when thinking of the bin in my closet, I see only products that were never finished. I need to shift the focus a little. Maybe it will help if I see not the sweater that's only half-made, but how bored I was while making it. Not the one sock that will never have a mate, but how I changed the pattern a bit without taking notes, and I'll never achieve a matching result. If my enjoyment comes in the process, then my failures are also in the process. The forgotten bin can stop being a burdening symbol of failure, and simply be a collection of processes I didn't enjoy, and therefore a large stock of yarn that I can re-purpose.
Now, off, not to the bin, that will come later, but to the charcoal lace. The process is still quite alluring to me right now.