The call of the loom.
This week it was echoing in my head. Beckoning me to keep it company. It shared space with the Vocal Arts music. The ear worms from the concerts just completed were not yet dimming.
I sat at the loom listening to its rhythms. The swish of the shuttle, the crash of the ascending and descending harnesses, the thump of the beater bar. And music from two different concert kept playing in my head.
There is a problem with that.
The syncopated rhythm of “Veni, Veni Emanuel” just does not match the smooth, even flow that the loom seeks.
It’s like trying to walk and chew gum at the same time. Or having your golfing partner sneeze as you are trying to make that stupid putt.
The words of the songs become jumbled. The threads twist and turn. The pattern gets lost. And you have to un-weave, un-sing and start all over.
It is called lack of concentration. Or just too much on one’s plate.
There is precedent for this behavior.
In high school I had to be in everything. Experience everything . My brain jumped from place to place and took my body with it. It still does.
The upshot is that it can take me a while to get things done. Flitting about does not a scarf make.
But this project was completed rather quickly. The pattern was relatively simple, the treadling was marked out on the treadles (so I knew where to put my feet), and I loved the look of the fabric.
I shut out the music in my head and listened to the music of the loom. Graceful, even, creating a feeling of calm. Thread after thread after thread.
Like the pattern, the music of the loom swirled around me. It sang a song of creativity. I found a happy place and stayed there. Until there were no more threads. It was finished.
That place will come again as soon as I dress the loom for the next project.