When does the life of a knitted object begin?: An Existential Query

Recently I began probing some of the deeper questions raised by knitting. For example, if you wear a knitted sock does it become animate? Or is it animate before you put it on? The sock exists, does it not? Does not the knitter of the sock transmit and transfer deep positive energy into the sock as part of the knitting process? Can we therefore consider the sock animate?

This chain of questions led me to further contemplation. For example, when does the life of any knitted object begin? Is it at the moment of conception?

And what exactly is the moment of conception? Is it defined as that time when the pattern designer has finished writing the pattern? Or as the time when the knitter has finished reading through the pattern and decided to knit the pattern? Or as the time when the yarn destined to become part of the pattern is cast onto the needle? Or as the time when the knitter begins the first row?

Or, does knitted life begin when the object is a blob of semi-differentiated cells?

And, if you should decide to undo a piece of the whole, or even the entire thing...is that a morally-defensible act?

Well, while I'm in serious mode, I wish to remind you, gentle knitters, that the day after Thanksgiving--November 25th, which is soon upon us--has three names:

• Black Friday
• Buy Nothing Day
• Knit Something Day.

To those of you who unabashedly celebrate the three C's of Black Friday--Consumerism, Capitalism, and Craziness--I hope you at least patronize your LYS or another knitting-related boutique. To those of you who, like me, enthusiastically celebrate Buy Nothing Day, besides staying away from stores, please donate a coat to your local collections center. And to those of you who celebrate Knit Something Day, please send me a photo so I can post an image of your handwork on this blog that all may admire your creativity!  We all look forward to seeing what's on everyone's needles!