Reflections

I certainly can't claim to speak for all weavers, but I do believe that some of us find meditation in weaving and a perhaps even a type of spirituality in the repetitious processes. 


During my first two years, maybe three, of college, the deep concentration and stillness of weaving came close to the awe of looking up at a night sky free from light pollution, or the brilliant life in the vast spruce forests of my childhood. Weaving, spinning, felting, sewing and dyeing became my mental anchors when other aspects of my life were in chaos. Over these few years my hands have learned new skills and I've stretched into the territory of fine art, but my practice always returns to the deceptively simple manipulation of fibre. 


There is balance in weaving. A balance between physical effort and acute focus, a constant rechecking of position and pattern and tension and beat. It is outrageously complex and completely mesmerizing. There are epiphanies. There are heartbreaks. All the while you are allowing the thread to speak to you, and you, in a quiet trance, listen and respond with your whole body. You are a part of the loom and your essence is in the cloth.