Three and a half years ago, when I started pin loom weaving and subsequently learned to spin yarn, I didn’t know that one day I would arrive at exactly what I hoped to achieve.
It’s probably not beauty I was after, rather, complete satisfaction. I couldn’t have said, “I want to weave on a loom my husband and I made, using blue yarn with streaks of white and other colors in it, blended and spun by myself,” but I knew it as soon as I saw it.
There are few perfect things in this world (Lendrum spinning wheels head my list at this moment), but there are many moments of transport that completely fill every available space in my human cup of receptivity, then go beyond, expanding my capacity to feel joy. I’m humbly grateful for them, and for the memory of them. At such times, though all is not perfect, yet somehow it is.