I just finished reading Becky Chambers’s A Psalm for the Wild-Built. I’ve been a fan of the author since her first book came out, but I’ve been saving her books because they are so precious and I don’t want to exhaust them. But I wish I’d read this one sooner.
A tea monk becomes the first human in living memory to meet a robot, generations after they became conscious and free, and their interactions are very cute. All very cozy and solarpunk (like Star Trek without the colonization). I could nit-pick if I wanted to, but perfection is unnecessary.
My favorite aspect of the book is the monks’ dedication to comfort, care, and connection. Their tea ceremony is simple and all about human kindness. It really connected with me about my own vocation.
Elizabeth and I got started in the world of yarn retailing because we needed something to pay the bills that would be flexible enough to allow for the kind of parenting we wanted to do. It seemed like a good creative job we could shape how we wanted. But it’s taken a while to really understand how the job has shaped us, too.
One thing I have learned is that people never craft for evil reasons. The biggest potential pitfall in knitting and crocheting is buying too much yarn, and we do our best to advise people to avoid that when we can, while allowing people their full dignity and agency. The other pitfall is spending too much time alone, and we have plenty of offerings to help with that too.
At my best, when someone comes into the shop, I am a tea monk, holding their needs and concerns with care. Allowing them to express themselves while not being intrusive. I can’t say I always succeed–there are times I don’t ask enough questions, or I don’t have what is needed. And there are times I’m distracted or tired or impatient. Capitalism is not the best context for human connection.
Which is why we are spinning the Craft Underground off as a semi-independent entity. The Craft Underground and its stitch groups, demonstrations, pot lucks, and other events will be managed collaboratively by the community that has gathered with Purl’s as the center. It will still be part of the Purl’s family, but there’s no pressure to monetize things, and the burden of organizing is shared beyond Elizabeth and I.
This is the most exciting thing we’ve done yet, like when Dex decides to leave their previous life and set out into the wild. But I’m doing it not because of an empty feeling inside, but because of a full one. We’ve helped foster a third-space that feels like home, and we want to give it space to grow, and space to slip further out of capitalist concerns.
Some of our stitch groups have grown to a size where they don’t feel like a chill space to slip in and out, and slowly warm up to strangers. We know that’s a need, so we’re trying to work out how to offer multiple kinds of experiences for multiple needs. The Craft Underground is going to make more things possible than we could do just with Purl’s. We think they will fit together well, even if it’s a little clunky and experimental at first, like a tea monk and a robot.