Threads

I have a small table top, low-tech loom. There are other looms far more high tech than mine. And of course, there are no doubt thousands more primitive than mine. But for the textiles I want to produce, the loom I have is sufficient.

I bought it on the internet, but I could have built one with exactly the same technological aspects using sticks from the woods and a handful of small nails. For thousands of years men and women--and children--have used such looms to produce everything from primitive belts to exquisite rugs and blankets.

Weaving on a low-tech loom is a slow process that allows much time for contemplation. Some days I may add two or three rows. Other days, perhaps ten. There's no rush. As with many creative crafts, speed is not of the essence. The entire point of the exercise is the journey.

The colors the weaver chooses, the yarns (or strings or other media) employed all affect the ultimate outcome. In just such a way, weaving mimics life. Our decisions influence our future.

A tapestry is woven from bottom to top. The choices made early on cannot be changed if we reach the midpoint and decide we've made a mistake. No, at that time we must continue on, perhaps making different choices to create a harmonious whole.

The complete piece will most likely contain dark and light threads. Without the dark, our eyes can't really appreciate the light. The more colors we employ, the greater the detail. Two or three color tapestry, even though bright in color, is likely to be monotonous compared to say...a six or eight color piece.

Some days the hunk will stand in my doorway and ask, "How long will this take?"

"As long as required."

Anything worth doing is worth taking the time to do well. I suspect that's one reason so few people enjoy life. We're rushing, rushing, rushing to get to the next thing without really stopping to savor the place we're occupying now. What, you say? Are we to savor the bad, too?

Well, perhaps not savor. But certainly we should pay heed to the events around us, take note of the lessons to be learned, lest we face a second or third time around. After all, we don't really want a tapestry composed only of angry, dark, mournful colors.

When the piece is finished, we will sit back and observe how the dark threads make the light ones look so much brighter. How sadness ultimately gives way to joy. And loneliness is washed away in ripples of friendship and love.

anny