The Healing Rhythm of Creation
Designed by Amira Dossani
The yarn is soft, pliable and easily guided by my practiced hands as I create a steady rhythm, loop by loop. The task itself is almost mindless — the repetitive, tactile nature of crochet is more than just a craft or a creative outlet; it is a form of self-care.
I have been a creative for as long as I can remember — whether it was taking sewing classes or molding polymer clay in elementary school, honing my cooking and baking skills during the pandemic or my newest creative venture: crocheting my own clothes. Throughout my life, these creative pursuits have always lent peace, slowness and rhythm to my ever-changing and ultrafast-paced life. Especially now, as a college student with a constant stream of stress and deadlines, crocheting is the time of day when I can disconnect and lose myself in the rhythm of creating.
Over time, I’ve dabbled in countless creative pursuits — some were short-lived while others have stuck with me throughout the many milestones of my life. My first and most enduring hobby was drawing, which I, like most kids, discovered at a young age; there were no barriers, just paper, a pencil and my ideas. It was instinctive, intuitive and freeform in a way none of us ever realized at that age. It is only now, later, as life got louder and more demanding, that we understand how rare that kind of quiet focus is.
During the pandemic, I found a new creative passion: cooking. I began with recipes — creating in a way that was structured and reliable. Soon, it turned into something much more organic where I learned to trust my intuition and began developing my own concepts and flavor profiles. In that time of deep uncertainty and sadness, cooking was one of the few things that brought me joy and allowed me to nurture my creative side. I remember cooking as another version of the soothing rhythm I find in crocheting: it is a way to slow down and care for yourself in a world that often demands the opposite.
In our society that rewards efficiency and constant output, social media pressures us to streamline our routines, optimize our workflows and never waste a moment. It is because of this fast-paced culture that I find peace and grounding in taking the time to create something by hand. To me, there’s something healing about spending hours stitching a garment, knowing I could have ordered something on Amazon or run to my local thrift store in a fraction of the time. Crocheting offers a different kind of rhythm than the one we are accustomed to — it pushes back against this culture of efficient production. It reminds us that time spent caring for yourself is never wasted.
A study published by Frontiers in Public Health argues that people are returning to hands-on hobbies like knitting, sewing or baking bread not just for the satisfaction of creating something beautiful, but for the mental space and healing that it provides. There is a comforting feeling in being able to trace your progress stitch by stitch or row by row; you can’t rush it, and furthermore, you’re not supposed to. This simple act of creation becomes a small rebellion against the rush of modern life.
Even if you’ve never picked up a skein of yarn or touched a sewing machine, most people understand the feeling that comes from doing something slowly and with care. No matter what it is, we all need a rhythm that is ours alone — something quiet, steady and healing. For me, that rhythm lives in the feeling of yarn against my fingers or the way a piece slowly starts to come together. In the end, it isn’t about what we create, it’s about making space for moments of slowness and intention in a world that rarely makes room for any of it.