I might have mentioned in the past that I knit. I probably mentioned it in passing. Possibly out of shyness. Probably out of embarrassment. Anyway. The truth? At the moment I very rarely do anything other than knit. My hours at work were cut (partly due to the economic climate, partly due to being in a tricky trade) and I suddenly have time to use, usefully.
I have become consumed by thread, stitches and pattern. I do eat of course, and the dog still gets a walk, although he spends time watching me with yarn and sticks with an accusatory look on his face, "you know, we could like, walk and shit".
Once upon a time knitting was what every girl was taught to do by her granny, some boys got taught too. Then feminism happened and we got far too busy being 'men' to do anything as pointless as knit. It kinda died out. I must've thrown out a whole bunch of needles and patterns in my thirties assuming that I wouldn't need them anymore, cos like, I'd have a career and be far too busy.
Well, I was wrong about the career (I have a job. Sort of.) and i was wrong about the knitting too. As I'm now time rich and cash poor my plan is to knit for christmas, the logic being that if family members get a handknitted item, they will be able to overlook the cheap bit of the present because they'll be in awe of the labour involved. So, two scarfs, one everlasting shopping bag and socks later you'd think I would be getting bored. But maybe the click of needles gives me an endorphin rush, as I seem to be addicted and looking for my next pattern as I cast off the last stitch.
I think it might be the rhythm and the repetition - its sort of like a three dimensional mantra, knit purl knit purl, yarn over, knit two together, repeat until calm. If you're stressed, pick up some needles, yarn and a granny (you'll need to learn the basics) and knit your way to Zen.