It’s Black Friday, and I just wrapped up a Beginner’s Knitting Class. Five women came to my home who all wanted to learn to knit. In talking with them, there were different reasons for knitting: stress reduction, one to make her train commute go a bit faster, another for the community aspect, etc. What they all had in common was a desire to make something with their own hands, to look at something and say, “I made that.” It struck a chord with me in a deep way.

I’ve worked as a knowledge worker in the technology sector, and it was a deeply satisfying experience.

I’ve worked as a barista at Starbucks, and that was rewarding for entirely different reasons, not least of which was the community we built with our customers.

I’ve worked in retail, running a women’s clothing store with a good-sized staff. There are few experiences to match seeing your numbers rise, your employees happy, and seeing your team get promoted from under you.

In each, I could point to a spreadsheet to see my results and take pride in what that spreadsheet reflected. But a few months later, a year later, those results were not the ones that mattered anymore. Or, in the case of Starbucks, the product I produced with my hands was consumed within minutes. All ephemeral.

I think that there’s a real desire to create something that we know will last. Something we can each point to and say, “I made that.” Sure, it may have mistakes or errors, but that doesn’t matter. I. MADE. IT. There’s a strong maker movement happening here in the United States, and I think it stems from the fact that most of us “work” through computers these days, selling information and knowledge. As rewarding and valuable as that is, it simply doesn’t match the satisfaction we get from mastering a craft, like cooking, woodworking, or knitting.

There is something about the sensory experience of creating something that simply cannot be replicated via the computer. The smell of a yarn store, the feel of the fibers sliding through your fingers, the sound of needles clicking past each other, the visual satisfaction of watching your fabric develop, and the taste of the tea or coffee that sits by my side while I knit: knitting is a five-sense experience that satisfies on a deeply primal level and doesn’t end once the project is completed. Every time I wear something I’ve made, or see my goods on a friend or family member, the whole experience is repeated once again. I made it. I. MADE. IT.