gratitude

Have you ever felt this way?

Sometimes I feel a fierce need to be in a different place. To refresh myself with things I’ve never seen or experienced before.

I traveled a bit last year, but nothing has taken my breath away like my trip to Scotland and England in 2011. I literally stood and gaped at an inordinate amount of stunning views. I wanted to ask someone to pinch me, but I didn’t want to wake up. I remember saying aloud, “I’m here. I’m seeing this.”

View from Cuith-Raing, Highlands

The skies seemed bigger. I felt even smaller. I had my doubts that I was still on Earth.

Cuith-Raing, Highlands

Calda House, NW Highlands

I was a solo traveler on that trip. I find that there are pros and cons to traveling alone. The biggest pro is that you can do whatever you want whenever you want; the biggest con is that you don’t get to share the experience with anyone. After a while, I got a bit homesick on the trip, mainly because I became overwhelmed with the constant moving from place to place and the newness of things. The craving for familiarity started to seep in.

I don’t know what to attribute this feeling. I’m a creature of habit, yet I need to be released into the wild once in a while. Even on a trip to a new and fascinating city, I can only take so many museums and interiors of lavish castles. And then I need to be let out. Experience the small, quiet moments and the vastness of the landscape around me. Let my traveling mind reach out and wrap itself around the details of new people, culture and food. Lots of food. Of course, you don’t need to travel 5000 miles just to experience something new. Look into the familiar and unfamiliar of your everyday life, and you will see something you’ve never seen before.

What I see in my everyday life – big and small – isn’t too shabby.

Oh, but that pull…

I’m taking a short trip soon with a friend and I’m sooo looking forward to exploring the wild heart of a new city.

This traveler is ready to be unleashed.

[I think I inadvertently busted my way into a WP weekly photo challenge by linking my post on their site, so I’d better show some common courtesy by linking you to their awesome site: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/dreamy/]

i miss my cat.

I’m an on-again, off-again knitter. I’m in on-mode right now, having been inspired by a friend who has been crocheting those cute amigurumi figures. I’m of Japanese descent, and it has taken me forever to learn and remember that word. Amygummy? Agroommy? Ergimummy? Argh!!

I love yarn, especially when the fiber is spun from alpacas. I love wooden needles and the fact that you can’t bring them to jury duty because it is a known fact that knitters are stone. Cold. KILLERS.

I’ve been trying to knit the perfect hat. This has been going on for years. The only hat I’ve ever kept was the one I subsequently lost in Scotland. Every time I travel I somehow manage to leave behind some article of clothing. (I am choosing to let that last sentence sound sexy and daring, even though it involves beanies and stretched-out sweatshirts.) In fact, I’ve hardly kept anything I’ve ever made, save a few coffee cup cozies and some crocheted roses my armygrummi friend taught me how to make.

Why is this?

a) I’m a perfectionist unwilling to compromise the highest apex of my expectations
b) I give everything away as part of my plan to clothe the heads of the entire population, one hat at a time
c) I look terrible in hats

See? I look like Michael Nesmith. I’m very upset because the hat is too small for my head. And it’s making me look like I have sideburns.

All are sort of true. But the thing that dawned on me this morning is that I actually enjoy the process. Screw the outcome. My task, my lesson, is to appreciate what is happening in the moment. Sometimes I feel disappointed that I didn’t capture a moment with my camera or that a better camera would be able to perfectly capture a scene…and then I remember that I am here, seeing this perfect thing at the most perfect of moments. That I can choose how I want to see what I see. Moments like this shift my perspective and depth of gratitude. Knitting, you are a surprising teacher.

Yes, we’re stone-cold killers. But we can also be found staring lovingly at our inordinate amounts of yarn and our beautifully crafted weapons of choice.

It’s the alpaca heart in us.