For the longest time, Barbara G. Walker was simply the brilliant mind behind my sweater-knitting bible, Knitting from the Top Down—the book that changed everything for me when it came to seamless garment construction. If you’ve ever knit a sweater without the dreaded seams, you probably owe her a big thank you. I certainly do.

So imagine my surprise when I recently discovered that she wasn’t just the queen of top-down knitting—she was also the creator of THE tarot deck I had originally wanted. The one that had first caught my interest when I was diving into tarot, before I ended up with my current, bossy deck. Somehow, I had never put two and two together. Talk about a plot twist!

Barbara G. Walker wasn’t just a knitting revolutionary—she was a prolific author who dedicated her life to educating, empowering, and enlightening us across multiple disciplines. She wrote an impressive number of books covering knitting, mythology, feminism, spirituality, and historical research. She didn’t just master these subjects—she taught them to us, freely sharing her knowledge with the world and leaving behind a wealth of resources that continue to inspire.

Her feminist and mythological works, including The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets and The Woman’s Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects, peeled back centuries of misinformation, exposing hidden histories and restoring the stories of women and goddesses long buried by patriarchal narratives. She wasn’t just a researcher; she was a truth-seeker, determined to give us back the knowledge that had been taken from us.

Her Barbara Walker Tarot deck, much like her knitting books, isn’t for the faint of heart. Just as she redefined sweater construction by encouraging knitters to think outside traditional techniques, she brought the same no-nonsense approach to tarot, infusing it with historical and mythological depth. It’s the kind of deck that doesn’t just suggest things—it tells you exactly what you need to hear, much like a particularly wise knitting instructor who won’t let you get away with sloppy tension.

Looking back, it makes perfect sense that one woman could master both fiber arts and esoteric wisdom. After all, fiberarts have always been tied to fate and storytelling. The ancient Greek Fates spun, measured, and cut the threads of life, and cultures around the world have used weaving and knotting as forms of magic and communication. Even today, when we knit, crochet, or weave, we are quite literally creating something out of nothing—an act that feels just a little bit like modern-day sorcery.

Barbara Walker didn’t just give us stitches—she gave us knowledge, empowerment, and a deeper appreciation for the histories woven into our crafts and beliefs. Whether through yarn or tarot, she understood the power of storytelling and the importance of passing knowledge down through the generations.

Discovering that one of my greatest knitting inspirations was also behind the tarot deck I had first wanted feels like a cosmic wink from the universe. But more than that, I now see her as an even greater force than I had realized—a woman who didn’t just create, but educated, liberated, and empowered others through her work.

So here’s to Barbara Walker—knitting innovator, historian, and all-around trailblazer. Whether you’re casting on a new sweater, casting a tarot spread, or casting off outdated ideas, her legacy is there, woven into the fabric of both fiberarts and deeper wisdom. In today’s political times, where misinformation spreads easily and hard-won rights are continuously challenged, we need voices like hers more than ever—voices that educate, empower, and remind us of the importance of knowledge and truth. And if there’s one thing she’s taught me, it’s this: knowledge is meant to be shared, stitches are meant to be passed down, and the truth is always worth unraveling.

Until next time friends…

Yesterday, near the end of Knit Happens Wednesday, just as I was wrapping up a lovely session of stitches and chatter, a conversation unfolded that rocked me to my core.

Out of nowhere, this intelligent, confident Latino woman timidly drops:

“I voted for Trump.”

Not in passing. Not as a footnote. But as a social experiment.

Her goal? To see how we’d react. Because apparently, she had recently lost a close friend over this and was feeling some kind of way about whether she’d still be accepted in spaces she cared about.

Now, the golden rule of Knit Happens is NO Politics, NO Religion. This is sacred yarn space, where the biggest debates should be over things like “Is it called a granny square if it’s a hexagon?” or “Can you ever really have too much yarn?”

But… we were a small group. The clock was ticking down. And curiosity got the better of me. So, I let it play out.

Internal Reaction: 💥SYSTEM OVERLOAD💥
I won’t lie. My brain short-circuited for a second. The neurons started sparking like an acrylic sweater in a dry winter.

The initial, deeply visceral reaction went something like this:

“WHY?”
“As a woman… WHY?”
“As a Latino woman… WHYYYY?!”

If my thoughts had a sound effect, it would have been a record scratch followed by the Windows error chime.

But I said nothing. I took a deep breath. Let the wave of emotion pass. And instead of unloading my knee-jerk thoughts, I sat with them.

And you know what? That was the best thing I could have done.

Because instead of a debate, a conversation happened. Not about politics, not about policies, but about acceptance—about what it means to have space where you’re not automatically judged for one decision, even a major one.

And really… who am I to decide whether her vote was right or wrong? I’m Canadian. My country prides itself on compassion, on being a safe harbor in a storm. And yet, this still bothered me.

Like… why, though? Why did this moment dig into my brain like a stray stitch in the middle of a lace chart?

Midnight Musings:
I woke up in the middle of the night still mulling it over.

Was it because of the ongoing chaos to the south that has spilled into my own country? Was it the seeming contradiction of voting for someone whose policies don’t seem aligned with her personal reality?

Or was it something even deeper—this weird assumption that kindness is weakness? That being open-hearted, welcoming, and trying to do the right thing somehow makes us vulnerable?

Is it weak to do the right thing, even when no one is watching?
Is it weak to be compassionate, even when others sling mud at you?
Is it weak to be a friend to the world?

Or—plot twist—is that actually our greatest strength?

Because the funny thing about kindness? People mistake it for passivity. They don’t see it coming when the time comes to stand firm and fight for what truly matters.

Final Thought:
So, what did I learn?

That my first reaction doesn’t have to be my final reaction. That listening—not agreeing, but just listening—can be powerful. That empathy is a tool, not a trap.

And that at the end of the day, knitgroup is knitgroup. A place to weave together people, not just yarn.

So I’ll keep being me—stubbornly kind, fiercely thoughtful, and always up for a good discussion… as long as it’s about knitting. 😉

Until next time Friends…

I’ve spent the past six months building a home for the Fiberarts Community, and honestly, I feel like I’m rebuilding myself in the process. A big part of this journey has been about understanding others, seeing things from their perspectives, and reflecting on my own views.

Tonight’s internal topic was “inclusivity and creating a safe space.” Earlier, I attended an event on my favorite platform, GoBrunch. I had to step away for a bit, and when I popped back in, I landed right in the middle of a lively discussion: “Should people use their real names and photos on LinkedIn?”

It’s a topic I’d heard mentioned before but never really explored. I’ve been “Artemisnorth” for as long as I can remember—it’s my brand, my identity online. Even my husband calls me his “Goddess Artemis.” I don’t hide who I am, but I choose who I share my legal identity with.

The host of the event, someone I’ve known for a while, is known for sparking these kinds of conversations. As usual, I found myself in the proverbial “hot seat.”

“Okay, stay calm, don’t swear…” I thought. I shared my perspective, the host moved on, and my gears started turning. Why should it matter if someone uses a pseudonym or a different image? How does that affect creating a safe space? And how does it make me feel?

Someone in the discussion said, “People who don’t use their real name or picture must have something to hide.” That hit me hard. Do I have something to hide? No, I don’t believe I do. But suddenly, I found myself questioning everything.

Then it clicked. I was forgetting who I am. I was letting others’ expectations affect how I see myself. And that’s when I realized how this discussion was making me—and others—feel. It wasn’t a “safe space.”

Projecting our own views or expectations onto others only creates tension. Inclusivity isn’t about making everyone fit into the same box. It’s about ensuring people feel they can be their authentic selves, connect meaningfully, and truly belong.

It’s not just about creating a space—it’s about building a culture of understanding, respect, and genuine connection.

Until next time friends…