Anyone who has ever knitted, crocheted, quilted, embroidered or otherwise worked with a length of yarn has witnessed this miracle. A perfectly innocuous, straightforward length of yarn mysteriously ties itself into a convoluted knot. As though tired of running in an endless track, it decides to curl up on itself for a cosy nap. Called back to its duties by a sharp tug and still a little sleepy, it emerges from between the coils. And there it is—a knot.
Or perhaps it’s just a naughty piece of string, with a twisted sense of humour. Or is it just another example of resistentialism? We’ll never know, will we?
Tied in knots
Great minds have deliberated on this phenomenon of spontaneous knotting. And arrived at the (not so) remarkable conclusion that the longer and rougher the string, and the longer it is left footloose and unencumbered, the greater the tendency of it tying itself into a knot. Thus proving a universal law of nature—that anything which is allowed to stray long enough—whether strings, human lives, or meandering tales, have a tendency to twist themselves into tangled knots!
A growing bond
Though having no string or rope at his fingertips, man’s relationship with knots is as old, or perhaps older than his lineage. Chimpanzees have been known to fashion knots. Indeed some anthropologists believe that humans could knot even earlier than he could built a fire, use an axe or the wheel. Certainly nature provided many examples, even his own tangled tresses!
As the convolutions of his own brain grew, man went on to create ever more complex knots of his own making. Knots that could lash together the huge boles of trees so that he could sail the seas, rope bridges across which he could ford torrential streams, knotted ladders so that he could scale heights. They helped him furl and unfurl sails, the billowing wind aiding him in his quest to circumnavigate the earth.
And it all started because a knotty piece of string decided to run in circles instead of following the straight (and narrow) path.
Tied with a bow
Having done with the onerous task of conquering the world, humans set about decorating it—with knots. Exquisite carpets for his home, embroidered French knots for her clothes. He tied extravagant bows and neckties, she coiled up her tresses into sophisticated chignons! The Chinese made knots into an art form, weaving elaborate good luck charms, while Celtic knots ornamented monuments and manuscripts alike.
Finally, finding himself at a loose end, (and perchance to add a little excitement to the circle of his own life) he intertwined his life with another’s. Having once tied the knot, he’s still trying to figure out if it was wisdom or folly!
Forget-me-(k)not
As the cognitive aids they are often used as, my mind too grasps at knots of the past. The childhood rite of passage of tying my own shoelaces. Hours spent perfecting the double knot in my school tie. Fumbling with sheepshanks and clove hitches in Girl Guides. Dainty knots to embellish handkerchiefs in needlework class.
the good, the bad and the ugly
Yet, not all knots are created the same. That which is a survival tool can become a killer noose, and that which is a cognitive aid can instead bind you in a hopeless tangle. The bond that brings two people together can become shackles of iron, the knot that was meant to keep you safely moored can restrain your every move!
So what makes a good knot? One that is reliable, serves its purpose efficiently, and doesn’t give way under pressure. And one that is easy to tie and untie.