When you were born into this world, you were undifferentiated consciousness. No concepts, no ideas, no words, just the Isness of awareness, pure and unsullied. And then someone pulled a sweater over your head that was knitted from their ideas and beliefs about the world, what they had been told was important and real and true, and they passed it on to you. And because you had little choice in the matter, you accepted this sweater, and came to believe it was a part of you and it even became the invisible backbone of your identity. Everyone wore a similar sweater, so it was clear that the sweater was a part of being a human being without exception.
If someone wore a sweater that was fairly similar to yours, there was no problem, but a different color or design sometimes was quite disturbing. It was hard not to warn anyone with unusual patterns in their sweaters of the dangers of nonconformance, and there were those who took this to an extreme whereas different sweaters had to be excluded and shunned, maybe even imprisoned or killed. A sweater, after all, is not just a sweater, it is the symbol of self, and must be true. A different sweater means something about you is incorrect, so to remain intact, one must reject whatever sweaters clash with one’s current fashion statement.
One day, as you were getting older, you noticed that the sweater had become a little tight, a little uncomfortable. So you were sent to a knitting class and learned how to sit quietly, knitting away, adding more to the sweater. Of course, you were very careful to not get too flamboyant with the design, just enough to show you had some creativity. And sometimes you would get together with others who also liked to knit and discuss how enhanced life was having discovered “the way” to knit.
Knitting was so embedded in the social structure of your life that there was little time for anything else. Everything was based on being a successful knitter, how else was anyone to tell who you were except by the sweater you wore? It was essential to keep one’s sweater in good repair and to learn how to maintain it. Everyone loved to talk about each other’s sweaters, offering compliments or criticisms as appropriate. You could always tell your enemies from your friends by their knitting techniques and yarn colors, so it was important to learn the differences and pass your knowledge on to others.
But there came a time when knitting took up so much time and energy, and questions arose as to what and who and why. Though these questions triggered great anxiety, you tried putting down the knitting needles for a bit. And for a little while, you were free from knitting and it was exhilarating! But knitting was such a habit that before you knew it, you found yourself knitting again, especially when your friends came over, since it was all anyone ever talked about. Still, you couldn’t forget that scintillating sensation of cessation, so, in secret, you began to sit without knitting, a little bit every day.
On days when your friends visited, you would pick up the knitting needles as usual, but it became apparent after awhile that you were getting a bit sloppy, dropping stitches here and there. Your friends thought perhaps you needed a refresher course, and they all had taken up with a new knitting teacher who was supposed to have the latest in techniques, especially when it came to repairing holes and tears. They encouraged you to attend these knitting workshops and at first you thought they might be right. I mean their sweaters were so beautifully done, with silver and gold thread in incredibly intricate designs. But the truth you were so reluctant to reveal was that you were tired of knitting. And you were afraid to say so, since everyone knitted something. Even ugly sweaters were better than nothing.
One day, while you sat and pondered these things, you noticed a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of your sweater. Usually, you would have taken out your needles and started furiously repairing the abnormality. But instead, you started pulling on the thread. Suddenly, the sleeve of your sweater started rapidly to unravel, at a rather frightening speed. Quickly, you took out your knitting needles and began pulling the yarn back together until one could hardly tell there had ever been a mistake. But you knew.
Now it was all you could do not to pull on that loose thread. It became like an itch under the surface of the skin. You couldn’t help it, your thoughts kept roving to the idea of no sweater and not-knitting. What would it be like to just stop? Would you be an outcast, would your friends and family leave you? Could you survive without your sweater, naked? You sat with your friends, your knitting needles idle in your hands, and many were worried that you had lost it entirely. Perhaps you would have to go to the hospital and have a surgeon repair your sweater for you, or in the worst case scenario, knit you a new sweater entirely! One friend said she would introduce you to the Swami Knityananda, who would put one of his sweaters on you and they were supposed to be just perfect, it was said no one could make a better sweater! And that his philosophy, “Knit This, Knit That”, took one to the highest levels of Knit-vana!
Well, all this talk became a bit much, and you stopped going out and you stopped inviting people over. You sat with your sweater, looking at it in the mirror, wondering at its colors and textures, its strangeness and its beauty, its ugliness and shabbiness, the whole of it. And you pulled at the loose thread. You pulled and you pulled. First one sleeve went. Then the other. You were terrified for a second, having never seen your bare arms before. But it was so freeing. So you kept pulling. And pulling. And finally the remnants of the sweater fell to the floor. And you saw your Self. The Truth of your Self. And you knew you would never be able to knit another sweater, because you knew that nakedness was sweet. And you just started laughing and laughing at the joke of it all.
One day, your friends came over and you were just sitting there, naked. At first they were outraged, then concerned, then curious. After all, you were so happy, grinning like you had an in on the biggest secret! So, as they furiously knitted away, they tentatively asked you what had happened. And with a little sparkle in your eye, you said, “It’s simple. Ask yourself “Why Knit?”
Suddenly, all the knitting needles clattered to the floor.
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