The Magic of Morning

Out here on the deck, still feeling the traces of a weary fog, I am enveloped and enlivened by what I can only call pure magic. Perhaps you have felt this too? The titter and chirp of birds and crickets singing a song of hope for the new-made day. Their chatter is a lively conversation of what we might do today, what we could make, how we could repair and revive, what needs to be done, and what loveliness can be spun all around the daily-ness. We long to keep the crickets chirping and the birds singing their hope song.

At some point they will go quiet, giving way to the sounds of cars on a nearby highway, a train in the distance, neighborhood lawn mowers, and the voices of those with whom I live. I will spin today. I already have and I plan to spin more for it is bringing me so much joy lately. As the loose fibers are strengthened by a dance of twirl and twist, so too I am strengthened. Solace, hope, joy, color, excitement, purpose, and a useful work, are all granted as I spin. How this is, I cannot say, for I do not know.

I imagine myself sometimes as others must see me…a middle-aged woman standing with a spindle twirling suspended from her hand. Or an outdated snap-shot of a woman at her spinning wheel, albeit a brightly painted one. It must be odd to see an artist who once twirled paint on paper to be twirling colorful fibers in a similar manner. It doesn’t really make sense.

Perhaps it doesn’t make sense for any of us to do the creative things we do when we look at it from the outside. Yet from the inside we know who we are. We enjoy life a bit more when we are making things. We see things differently. We carry that making-magic into all that a day brings us. We consider how we might spin softness and color into every mundane chore and challenging situation.

This is why we create. Whether it is spinning fibers into yarn or words into story; swirling paint on a page or clay on a wheel; stitching wool into socks or thread into quilts…we are bringing the magic of morning into the rest of our day, spinning hope and a new song as we go.

Coffee Spin

While the coffee brews, I pick up my spindle with the delightful pink wool and I spin to the music of gurgles and drips. I don’t know why I do this. I am enthralled by the swirl of color and fluff, sparkle and texture, flowing through my hands. I grin at twirling a yo-yo-like wooden toy and at the feel of twist growing up into the fibers, strengthening as it goes, until my left hand registers the “full” feeling.

As I wind the yarn onto the shaft, I marvel at the various colors and textures of fibers I had previously blended into rolags. It’s a symphony of individual parts coming together into a lovely whole, eventually useful, yet in and of itself it is a thing of beauty.

I receive this thought as encouragement for my life which is also filled with many varied and seemingly incongruous bits. As I spin, I take to heart that it is all twisting into a beautiful whole…strong and useful.

Marisol with recently plied yarns.💖

***I sincerely hope you, dear reader, are healthy and finding solace in your creative endeavors. If you are new to my blog and website…Welcome! 💖 You can sign up to receive these posts via email or follow on WordPress. Let us press on in keeping our hands full of beautiful things to put into the world.

Twist

I’ve been mulling over, spinning ’round in my head and heart, a thought. I don’t know if I read it somewhere, or if it just floated into my head like a bit of woolly fluff. It’s one of those thoughts that brings both a sigh and solace. It winds and weaves its way into the moments of my days, both pleasant and difficult. It is this:

Strength is in the twist.

Spinning one’s own yarn speaks to me. This is no surprise, as drawing and weaving and stitching have done so as well. Creativity in general is a strong teacher in my life. The process of making can bring clear and concise help on days that are less than sunny, and can magnify the light on bright days. This one, this clear yet colorful thought, gives me hope in the ongoing whirl of life.

Spinners know that fiber must be spun in order for it to withstand the pull of weaving it, knitting it or crocheting it.  Without twist, a fiber can be pulled apart, and more-so the thinner the strand of fiber. A thicker strand requires less twist, but the thinner you go, the more twists it needs to be strong. And for even more strength, two or more strands are plied together. This last statement deserves its own post and I shall save it for another day. It’s this twist idea that holds such hope for me.

The way spinners speak of this is to say that as we spin, energy is being added to the fibers. Whether you drop spindle or use a wheel, you add energy into the fiber and then release it to creep down the drafted bit of wool, thus securing and adding to its strength.

I may be hard-pressed on busy and difficult days to feel that energy is being added to my life. But it heartens me to think that in the torque of living, in the ongoing revolutions around the sun and even in the hour hand moving ’round in circles, strength is being worked into the fiber of my being.

I am grateful that strong, loving, Masterful hands hold me as my days go spinning by. I  can trust that strength is being wrought into my weakness, one twist at a time.

Filaments of Light

What is it about spinning? The wonder…the allure? Can someone even explain why? I will attempt to do so here, but at the end of it all…this fascination baffles me. From a certain viewpoint, taking fluff of various kinds and turning it into string seems incredibly strange, silly and perhaps even nonsensical. You know how people say to us knitters…”why are you knitting socks when you can just go buy them, wear them immediately, and spend far less for them?” Well…think about this in reference to spinning yarn. I  mean really. Yarn in all variations, combinations, colors, textures, price points, etc is available to any who might wish to have it. So why spin one’s own yarn?

Well…

(Cue up the grand music, the poetry, the meditation of body and soul…)

And there, right there, I’m lost for words. How do I speak of the fluff of roving, wool batts, braids, sparkly fiber, wooly locks, alpaca, silk, and more? How can I describe the colors, intense and saturated, light and airy, pastel and muted, and the ever-beautiful basic cream of undyed wool? How do I tell you what it’s like to sit at a spinning wheel, fibers flowing through one’s hands and watch it turn into a strand of color and texture, sometimes barber-poling, sometimes thick, sometimes thin, sometimes slubbed and rough, other times smooth and creamy? And oh boy…how do I explain the wonder, the beauty of plying two strands of handspun yarn together? Oh the delight, the giddiness, the sheer bliss of this pastime? Even drop spindles hold a fascination for me that may be beyond description. Twirling dervishes of wooly delight.

The only way I know to speak of this amazing activity is to say that when I spin, with a wheel or spindles, it feels as if I am spinning filaments of light. To be sure many of the combined batts (both purchased and those I am now creating with a blending board…oh the crazy delight of that…but I shall not bore you with a poetic description, at least not today anyway) contain sparkly man-made fibers that glow and glisten as you spin. But even just the plain wool itself, especially when caught in the light just so, looks like tiny strands of light lining up into a cord as I spin, however thick or thin. This fascination with filaments of light is what gets me. I’m not sure I have any other explanation than this. Filaments of Light.

I cannot even say that I spin in order to knit with it or weave with it, though I certainly do both. But I actually spin just to be spinning. Just to enter that little dance (or is it a trance?) of foot tapping, wheel spinning, fiber flowing space. Even if it is only for a few minutes. I love that about it too…being able to just sit down to it and go. So little set up. No faffing about with where I am in a pattern, or decisions about what color to weave with next. Just spin. And spin. And spin.

And once I have the delicious yarn wound into a cake or hank, I love to just look at it, stack them up, sit them around here and there for decoration. Little cakes or twists of colorful Light!

The next time you have a hank of yarn in your hands, look for those filaments of light. Many of the yarns mass-produced today lose that spark of light. It is in the handspun variety that you can see it. Words for it may elude you, as it does me. But it will be there, spun up into the fluff and color of yarn.

<sigh>

Not Much & Everything

I’m popping in to say…well…not much. I just want to post. To touch base here on my blog, to any and all who might be visiting. To say life is grand when making things is heading in directions you love. To say that even when life isn’t so grand, making things makes it more tolerable, adds joy, soothes the rough edges. I’d like to blog more often… just to make it a habit, to touch base, to be present here as I am ever so full in my heart with many things I am making, many things I want to make, and many things I may never have the time or resources to make.

On the other hand, I feel I have so much to say. Not today perhaps. But so much is bubbling and brewing, percolating and stewing. It may not come to any sort of viable, sellable product. This bothers me. I wish it didn’t. I hold at bay a nagging thought that plagues me nearly daily – “What is all of this for Jen?” To what end are you spinning fiber with drop spindles? Isn’t this a kind of fool’s errand? To what end are you weaving segments of cloth, one after the other? Will you sell them? Will selling them make it all feel “worth it”? Is there some other creativity, some other medium, some other thing that will give you that sense that Ahhhh THIS! THIS is the thing! With everything I set my hands to, I have a sense that it is indeed the THING! And with everything I make, I have a nagging sense that it isn’t. How can that be?

In every creative act there exists simultaneously a sense of fulfillment and futility. I’m learning to let this be. To just go with it, make space for them both to exist in the atmosphere of my making world. I’m learning to ride the waves of creativity wherever they take me, whether it is to shores of selling or islands of learning new things or into deeper waters of what I already love to make.

‘Til tomorrow then…

Jennifer