Microcosms for $200, Alex
I wish I could remember which of my several excellent English teachers taught me one of my favorite literary concepts. It may have been when I first read Lord of the Flies, or it may have been Animal Farm. I know I had a firm handle on it by the time I fell in love with Jane Austen’s works.
It’s a great word, and I am willing to bet the kids I taught in our home school co op Literature Discussion Classes were sick to death of “microcosm” by the time our classes were over (“Is EVERY short story a microcosm?!”)
Those types of stories are great tools for engaging teenagers in discussions about Big Topics. The whole idea of a microcosm is to use a small, relatable tale to represent issues affecting the whole world or a large segment in it. It takes the enormous and complicated and theoretical and makes it personal. If the author does her job well, she manages to make the characters and situations relatable, encouraging empathy and deeper thought than we sometimes give to controversial situations and issues.
If you’ve been reading for a while, you know we’ve been spending time with loved ones in medical facilities recently. Several of those experiences have caused me to recall the familiar literary device. Have you ever considered a hospital as a microcosm?
It’s not perfectly representative of the whole world, but it covers a lot of ground. There are folks of all walks of life and from all sorts of situations. Some are in desperate need, some are there to help in official capacities, and some are mostly waiting. There’s a lot of drama. There are a continuous stream of conflicts, negotiations, communication breakdowns and breakthroughs. There’s a whole lot of need and a limited number of resources. Anger, despair, fear, desperation, and hope are almost visible characters, walking around and jotting down names for special attention later.
It sounds a lot like what you see on the news and social media, doesn’t it?
Thankfully, in this medical microcosm, I’m also seeing other things. Kindness, gentleness, compassion, and gifted caregivers. And just like in the wider world, knitting has provided a connection point for perfect strangers.
As I was finishing the Noro Scarf I wrote about last week, a woman who works in Environmental Services for the hospital walked by. She’s from Hong Kong, and used to knit quite a lot when it was more popular in her home several years ago. She told me about the items she used to make and spoke about how sad it is that so many people have lost interest in these “important brain skills” that keep the mind sharp like knitting does.
She approved of the bright colors in the scarf and thought they’d be very cheerful for the recipient.
Another hospital employee got into a conversation with us about Fiber Arts after caring for our loved one, including exchanging pictures of current and past projects.
I can’t help but be reminded of all the times we’ve spoken with local yarn shop owners about the community building aspects of their businesses. It’s almost always the part they find the most meaningful and rewarding. They love to provide spaces for people to gather, be encouraged, and feel supported and understood.
One business owner spoke of a twentysomething-year-old and an octogenarian who became dear friends in the knitting corner of her shop. The two could not have been more different, or diametrically opposed in their social, political, and religious beliefs. But in the cozy knitting nook, when one was patiently helping the other work through a challenging pattern and they were comfortably visiting about what had happened in the earlier part of their respective days, you’d have thought they’d always been kindred spirits in every way.
It’s a cheerful thought to ponder as I pick the Amaryllis cardigan back up and get back to my current role of mostly waiting. I’m grateful for something productive to do, to keep my brain sharp as I wait. I’m happy for the gift of an occasional conversation with a fellow maker when they happen. And I’m especially grateful to enjoy a hobby that can build bridges between people in all sorts of circumstances.
Finally, if you happen to serve in a caregiving role or in a role that supports those who give direct care to the medically fragile and needy, thank you, sincerely. You are very much appreciated.
Happy knitting,
Kiersten J
