The Silence of the Lamms

I spent another couple of hours yesterday facing down my loom. It's almost tied up and ready to dress. (Doesn't The Naked Loom sound like an English pub?) I just have to sort out the misbehaviour of the lamms, which insist on hitting each other, and it will be time to put on the warp. The physics of it makes sense to me now and I don't find the whole thing quite as intimidating as I once did. I can actually envision myself making something on this someday. Placemats, tea towels, scarves...My ambitions aren't grand. Though apparently I have been given the "work horse" of looms that is capable of making anything from lace to carpets and tapestries.

I recently read a bizarre little book by Martha Beck in which she talks about casting your thoughts out into the universe and drawing toward you the things you need and want most. How basically you don't have to strive and struggle, but you let the magic of the universe provide. The things you require or desire will just appear in your life.

Well, it was worth a try, I supposed, so as I was reading I projected the thought, "I want to make a living doing something I love." I didn't do it the right way, according to her instructions, which involved "dropping into Wordlessness and connecting with Oneness," but the thought was there, anyway.

About a week later I was offered this loom. Now ordinarily I wouldn't see anything marvelous about it, except this is the second time in my life I have been offered a giant floor loom for free. Does this happen to everyone? I think not. And one of my best friends in my twenties was a weaver. That's three times a loom has nudged my life. Actually, four: I have a distant Scottish ancestor who was a weaver. I can take a hint. I accepted the loom. When I told Jette about it, she laughed and said I was meant to weave.

Will I make a living at it? I doubt it, though I could see it possibly supplementing the income. Jette makes a living at it, both by producing and by teaching. But I do think I will fall in love with it. I find treadles and heddles are the last thing I think of before falling asleep and the first thing I think of when I wake up. Maybe once it's strung up and ready to use, I won't be quite so obsessed.

There will soon be a lot of clanging and thudding in my house, but don't be alarmed---it's just the universe knocking at the door with a delivery.