Learning to Learn

(or how not to quit)

I love to knit because it’s a peaceful, quiet and potentially meditative way to be alone. That said, I’m not particularly good at it. I make dumb mistakes and have to pull out lots of stitches. I try and fix things without taking the time to see how to fix them correctly. I shortcut and make things up as I go along hoping it will work out in the end (it never does.) I tell I myself “It looks fine, no one will notice that!”

I have very few finished knitting projects because even though I love to knit, my way of knitting is not conducive to having a good-looking finished product. So, as you might imagine, I eventually get frustrated and toss projects to the side again for months or even years.

In 2025 I’ve been committed to trying to figure out why I approach knitting (and certain other things) with this authoritative stance as if I know better. A resistance to learning how to do something right and instead assuming I can figure it out is one of my weaknesses.

When I was in the music business, my singer-songwriter abilities transcended any need for cognitive understanding on my part. I somehow wrote songs that ended up in TV shows and movies without being able to explain the chord structure of my songs or knowing what key they were in. While the music business itself was hard, the creation of my often complex songs was easy. Perhaps somewhere along the way my young mind assumed that all things creative should be so easy. It’s the only way I can explain my “I got this” approach to things in my life that are much harder for me than music ever was.

Quitting is an easy way to ignore the fact that I could do better. To quit provides quick relief but it also takes away the opportunity (and time) to work through something and actually become good at it. Quitting ends the potential for journey, growth and the feeling of accomplishment.

Many years ago I read or heard someone talking about how the neural pathways in the brain are wired like water running through a creek. Thoughts go the path of least resistance, winding around the same rocks, making those rocks smooth over the years… until a rock eventually gets moved somehow, and then the water will change its path.

This past weekend I decided to put that idea into action. I decided to “move a rock” when I inevitably realized my knitting was going badly. Instead of trying to fix it on my own or quitting altogether I did something that was very out of character for me: I allowed myself to be taught. I found a video that explained the stitch pattern I was trying to do and I watched it three times without physically following it. I simply sat and listened over and over again to the directions until eventually I was able to catch one tiny thing I was doing wrong. There was one stitch in the pattern I was doing backwards. When I fixed that one tiny mistake, the pattern suddenly began to work.

It was so simple, really: fail, seek answers, learn, do it better. All the hours I spend thinking I can figure it out myself are wasted time because the fact of the matter is- I still don’t know enough about knitting to take that earned stance.

Some things come easy, and some things we learn by the brute force of making ourselves sit through an instructional YouTube video. It’s a beautiful thing really- to sit still, listen to someone who has more knowledge than me and really start the process of learning. To trust I am able to learn and become good at anything I correctly and patiently set my mind to… for this 53 year old brain… that’s a brand new concept.