The knitting group that I am a part of organise a Secret Santa, with presents given out at our Christmas party, and it works really well.  One of the girls did point out that it's not very 'secret', because we always guess and admit afterwards who bought or made what, but that's beside the point -  just buying or making one present means you can put in some time and effort.  That would be difficult if buying for everyone, impossible if buying for no-one, and awkward if buying for only some!

This year I decided to make something.  The girl whose name I had picked out of the bag as my giftee is a seamstress and always produces fabulous Secret Santa gifts, so the pressure was on. I've been playing around with a technique for making 'contoured' colour changes with intarsia, by using increases and decreases either side of a colour change. I decided to make a cowl, and my design for the Secret Santa gift uses this 'contoured' intarsia technique, involves 18 small skeins of yarn, and the intarsia is done in the round, so I always knew it would be a challenge. I ploughed ahead anyway, approximated how much yarn I would need for each colour block, and ended up knitting with this distressing tangle:

If you are consistent about turning one way at the end of a knit row, and the opposite way at the end of a purl row when knitting intarsia, then the yarns magically untangle (sometimes with some gentle persuasion). But this wasn't working for this project: all the skeins moved around in the tray, especially because I was doing intarsia in the round. I was a bit worried: as much as I love intarsia, I was on a tight deadline to get the project done and untangling yarns under pressure is not really my idea of fun.

I know you can get 'yarn holders', but I didn't have any, and not being keen on buying eighteen of them I searched the kitchen for things that I could use instead. I decided on cups, as they are reasonably heavy so will stay in place, plus I have plenty of them, so there would be no need to empty a mug of yarn just to get my morning cuppa.  My intarsia tray ended up looking like this: 

It worked like a dream: the little skeins of yarn twisted round and jumped in their cups as I pulled on them to release more yarn, but almost never escaped their ceramic confines, and my strands stayed untangled throughout the whole project. 

Even with nearly-zero levels of yarn tangling, I still have to make a positive effort to relax into an intarsia mindset, and accept that it's a messy business until it's all over and the ends are sewn in. Maybe there's a metaphor for life in there somewhere - it's muddy and a bit out of control, but learn to live with the chaos and it's all worthwhile in the end.

I have a business based on what was once my hobby and running a business can be stressful.  I try and remind myself that this was supposed to be fun, but still, with deadlines looming and financial headaches, stress levels rise.

Previously if I felt stressed, I always knew that in picking up my knitting and working the first few stitches, the stress would fall away and I would feel instantly better.  Why is that? I think it's partly learned associations, since I've spent long, relaxing hours enjoying myself knitting, maybe in front of the TV.  I associate knitting with down-time.  More than that it feels like there's something else at work with knitting, as if the "negative voice" in my head that at times seems to invite in an entire committee to point out my worries and limitations is silenced. Maybe that part of my brain is busy, put to work forming the stitches. 

With the reduction in stress comes the chance to properly think through problems and come up with an answer to the realities of life that I'm facing.  "Okay, so I have this problem, I might not like it, but how am I going to deal with it?"  I sit and knit and ponder and possible resolutions present themselves.

That was before.  Now my stress comes from my knitting!  I have a business based on something that I love - but can I love it any longer with the stress it's giving me?  No matter, I have to knit, I have a pattern to finish, I have to just get on with it!

I pick up my needles and knit and, despite my fears, the warmth of the wooden needles and the smooth yarn feeding through my hands are enough; the stress is washed from me just the same as always.  As before, I find healing in its repetition and monotony and I am freed to think and solve. 

Whatever else might make my stress levels rise, it's not knitting.

Wendy x