Magic Lives in the Ether

The first time I realized that to be good at something, you have to be bad at it first was when I learned how to knit.

It was a cool September night in 2001. I sat up all night with a book, a pair of needles, and a skein of yarn, determined to figure it out. By 6 a.m. I had about two rows of knitting.

Two rows.

They were uneven, imperfect, and honestly a little embarrassing. But the feeling I had when I looked at them was something new. Something electric. I had created something with my own hands, and I knew I wanted more of that feeling.

That moment lives in the same place in my memory as another moment about seven years later—walking into my first EMS course.

I didn’t know if I would be good at responding to emergencies. In fact, at first I really didn’t think I was.

I struggled with what to say to my patients. My mind would scramble under pressure. There were moments when I genuinely wondered if I would ever be good at it.

But something happened over time.

Now, some of my best critical thinking happens under stress.

I evolved.

EMS changed me. It made me focused and determined. Every call taught me something.

Every. Single. Call.

There is always more to learn.

One thing I never forgot, though, is where I started.

The uncoordinated, unskilled knitter I once was eventually became the president of a knitting guild in 2010.

The nervous EMT whose stomach dropped every time the tones went off became a critical care paramedic and a mentor to new EMS clinicians.

And somewhere along the way, knitting remained a quiet constant.

When life felt heavy, I knit.
When I needed to think, I knit.
When I needed peace after the chaos of a shift, I knit.

Years later, that same quiet magic led me to start Drops of Jupiter Fiber Co.

Hand-dyeing yarn feels a lot like those first two rows of knitting did back in 2001. There’s experimentation. There’s uncertainty. There are moments where you’re not sure how something will turn out.

And then suddenly—color blooms across the fiber and something beautiful appears that didn’t exist before.

It’s the same lesson again and again.

The magic never lives inside the comfort zone.

It lives in the awkward first stitches.
The uncertain first calls.
The moments where you don’t know if you can do something—but you show up anyway.

That’s where growth lives.

So try the thing.
Be bad at it.
Let yourself evolve.

Because whether you’re learning to knit, responding to your first emergency call, or dyeing yarn in your kitchen hoping the colors bloom the way you imagined—the journey always begins the same way:

With two uneven rows and the courage to keep going.

Share the peace.
Enjoy the journey.
Love each other.

— Glena