Starting over

I am, I’m starting over again. Retracing steps, gingerly. No giving up or in, but keeping on. And I’m not going to talk about it either – the thing I’m doing again. It involves writing and reading. There, that’s all I will say.

It was this passage in The Alchemist that provided some inspiration after months of darkness and difficulties.

The old man leafed through the book, and fell to reading a page he came to. The boy waited, and then interrupted the old man just as he himself had been interrupted. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you are trying to realise your destiny. And you are at the point where you’re about to give it all up.”

Doubt can eat a person up. Many things in life conspire to stop we humans from sticking with it. I owe it to myself and my closest to not walk away from the discipline required, the solace, the peace. I have to tune back in to my intuition.

Knitting in Venice

As I walked down all the tiny streets and over bridges in central Venice I was bombarded by design and fashion. Most of it was luxurious. Some of it was fronted by men selling contraband right in front of Prada’s windows, calling to the tourists to buy their genuine look-a-like goods. At times I felt uncomfortable with this contrast between high-fashion couture set in air-conditioned shops and the men who stayed put on the streets in the sun until caught – which seemed to rarely happen.

I looked out for the original, small artisan seller. Paper, glass and jewellery makers were dotted about here and there. I recall my mother and her friends being very fond of Italian gold – it has a certain patina and weight that distinguishes it from all the others.

Then I found a yarn shop with  smiling knitters inside, despite 38C of heat every day…and like all yarn people, were extremely helpful. They told me their story and all about their yarns. We talked in a combination of English and Italian, enabling each other. We decided to stay in touch to share.

Dio benedice i maghi italiani!