So, I'm crocheting like a madman ('cause winter is coming), and I realize in the quite solitude of those crocheting moments that life and all good things are like crochet. If you do it right, it might become something beautiful, perhaps purposeful. If you don't do it right, it might end up all wonky and confusing.
Maybe you're following a pattern somebody else created (let's be honest, there's nothing new under the sun), but it's still yours because your actions are the ones entwining each previous deed with the next one.
Now, why am I thinking this while I crochet, because even when you're doing it right and beautifully, a single pull could unravel it and send the whole thing to hell and leave you with a tangled mess.
Perhaps that's the meaning of life; to prepare us, not for the "well done," or "how cute," but for that unexpected unraveling, to be able to pick up that mess and make it something wonderful, again and again.
By the way, the picture doesn't have anything to do with my point, but it's very nice to look at. Cheers.