Two hands in a striped shirt hold wooden needles. The yarn is a mix of pale gray and beige, and at the tip of the needles the stitches curl down row by row. The light from outside the window comes in low and softly lights the creases and tendons on the backs of the hands. A single strand of yarn trailing across the table lies there unwound.
Looking at this photograph, the shoulders come down a little. The eyes stay fixed on one point at the tip of the needle, and the breath lengthens to the beat of the stitches being passed. The fingertips keep moving, while the rest of the body is quiet.
What rests the mind is often not time spent doing nothing. Rather, while the hands repeat a simple task, the thoughts that kept turning quietly draw back.
How about doing one simple thing within reach for just three minutes. Wiping a dry dish, tidying the jumbled things in a drawer, or winding up yarn or string. Do not try to do it well, and repeat the same motion a few times.
The same three minutes can also be moved to the evening dishes. While rinsing the dishes one by one, look at how the two feet planted on the floor, below the hands, are pressed. Whether the weight resting on the heels leans to the right or shifts toward the toes, it can also change each time the dish being rinsed changes. It becomes an evening in which the sound of water takes the place of the sound of needles.
The needles are moving quietly toward the yarn that is half left.
