"Who knit ya?" is a phrase which hails from wondrous Newfoundland in Canada. Many of the people who settled there were Scots or Irish and the whole island is an eclectic mix of cultures, with a strong Celtic vibe. Who Knit ya - basically is a question about who you are, or rather who contributed to you being the way you are.
It is intended to be said in jest - laughing at themselves is something Newfies are renowned for. For example, if you do something a bit daft, the response might be - who knit ya? The phrase fascinated me and I guess I took another meaning out of it - more about the threads and patterns that are woven into the fabric of our lives, our being, our creation and in particular who contributed to that.
We carry places and people inside us, they become part of ourselves. A sunset in the north of Scotland, a stranger on the train. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunties, uncles, cousins, teachers, friends, enemies, strangers - they all "knit us". They all contribute a stitch or a thread, a colour.
And when we look at ourselves, what do we see? Sometimes it might feel like a tangled mess. In therapy, that's exactly what we do - untangle the tangles. Unpick the bits that don't make sense and weave them back into a pattern. We call it integration. Integrating the parts of ourselves that we find unacceptable or the experiences we have had that we just can't get our heads around.
Sometimes there are mistakes, or those in the creative world like to call them "design features". What would it be like to think of our lives as having design features? Unique aspects that cannot ever be replicated. The experiences of our lives make us who we are, in all our multi-colored imperfect beauty. People who make stuff continually have WIPs - Work in Progress. That's what we will always be, that's the incredible beauty of us, we have the ability to change the pattern and create something amazing with our lives.
"I am a part of all that I have met." - Alfred Lord Tennyson
Knitting takes time and patience - for some of us it involves ripping out and starting all over again. For some of us, it involves swearing or throwing things across the room. But it is always worth the effort. (Well, maybe apart from that very dodgy primary colours jigsaw jumper I knitted in the eighties). And people. People are always worth the effort.
Signing off. Dr M