I am here… in the midst of my work/home/fiber lives and managing the fallout from trading worktime for nursing the cowboy back to health. (He is fine.. just a nasty stomach bug hit him hard for the better portion of last week.)

Whatever time that I have had away from the offspring this week was dedicated to soothing my nerves with spinning/dyeing/knitting.

At the beginning of the week, the day I picked Wendy up (her name is Wendy… like BOB and Wendy… I asked the cowboy what her name should be and WENDY it is.)…

So the day that I picked Wendy up I got some pretty sad news about the person who taught me how to spin. She is ill… very ill…. and it startled me so. I went and sat down with Wendy and tried to work out some of my feelings about this.

As I spun I started to realize how amazing this gift is.

I joke around about my addiction to fiber. I know that I am weak when I see unspun fiber, or that perfect colourway, or the new book that just blows my mind.

For me, this fiber thing has gone way, way deeper and struck a chord on the strings of my soul. I realized, in my ever-present and obsessive brain, that the fiber is a representation of a connection between humanness and art. I realized that every time I take a class or teach a class… I am keeping the gift alive. When I meet with my knitting group, my friends, I know that they are my kind. They share the gift and the passion for fiber that I have. With every stitch, or draft as that may be, we unravel our historys and our lives while ooh-ing and ahh-ing over each other’s current WIP’s. We offer each other that haven where you can just be. The pressures and woes of our lives are suspended for a brief period of time by escaping into the fiber.

I have realized, like the millions that have come before me, I have now taken on her legacy and am responsible for her wellbeing.

The cowboy has crawled up on my lap a couple times this week when I was sneaking in some spare moments with Wendy. He holds the fiber a few inches from Wendy’s oraface and lets it go on to the bobbin. Excitedly he exclaims ” I LIKE it! I LIKE it!” I can’t discourage this behavior. I am hoping he wants to learn to spin. Selfishly, I realize, he is a huge part of my legacy and I want him to cherish this gift as much as I do. I think, by the way he tends to gravitate to every fiber tool I have ( it helps that all of my tools are so cool looking to an almost 3 year-old) he has it.

So, this week, it is inevitable that I think of my teacher when I am spinning. The spinning has become my prayer for a fellow fiber artist. A prayer if thanks for the craft. Thanks for first unlocking the mysteries of spinning and the history (herstory?) of the fiber arts to me. A prayer for peace and rest and recovery.

If you happen to be at your wheel/spindle/knitting this week and you think about this post or your connection to the fiber arts… maybe you could think about my teacher and send her some positive thoughts/prayers. She sure could use them.

(EDIT: July 18th, 2006 Sadly, Jane passed away on Friday morning. Maybe… thiose spinning/knitting thoughts could be passed on to her family…. beacuse they sure could use them now.)
Thanks friends. I mean that in the most heartfelt of ways. Namaste.