Life Lessons from a Loom

Santa gave me a weaving loom for Christmas. While we were shopping in November, I saw a scarf that was woven, and I thought to myself, “That might be fun to learn.” Later that month, I saw a Cricket Loom online, and wrote a letter to Santa.

Since I was a small child, I have loved yarn and fabric crafts. I learned to do fine crochet from my mother, who would crochet doilies, runners, and edges for pillow cases. From doilies I “graduated” to yarn crochet, passing my time making afghans and baby blankets. Lately I have crocheted many prayer shawls as a ministry, presenting them to people who need the comfort and warmth of a shawl, because of cancer treatment, bereavement, or other struggles, or because of a special event with promises for the future.  I also began learning to knit, though not very successfully. (Santa also gave me a knitting video; maybe that will help.)

Learning to weave has taught or reinforced many life lessons, starting with…

It’s not as easy as it looks: As with most tools and kits, there were many parts, and the written instructions were woefully inadequate. From putting together the loom to setting up a project with the yarn, I could not, for the life of me, understand or interpret the diagrams. Fortunately, there is YouTube.  I found videos that showed me exactly what to do, and Maggie managed the video timing to help me assemble the loom. I save the links to videos of various techniques into my iPad, so I can view them as I learn.

Learn the lingo: Like all professions, weaving has its own language and terminology. I had to learn warp and weft, ends and picks, shed and heddle, shuttle and beating, fell and selvedge. I needed to know the terminology in order to read a weaving pattern, or to talk about the process with another weaver. That’s how it is with anything I have learned: crochet has its language, so does knitting, sewing, woodwork or leatherwork… and life.

Patience is a virtue:  As I tried to understand the instructions and set up the loom for a project, I often had to undo my work or start all over again. What should take a few minutes to accomplish often stretched out to an hour. I had to know when to stop, take a deep breath, and think the process through.

 

Practice makes perfect: I started my weaving with a narrow piece, so I could learn the technique and not waste the yarn. Once I felt I had learned, I made a scarf for Santa. The repetition allowed me to practice with proper spacing, tension, starting and ending. I look at Santa’s scarf now and chuckle at how funky it looks compared to today’s projects. Scarves are good practice projects; I made a scarf to learn to knit, and crochet scarves are quick to complete now.

There is mindfulness in art: The constant repetition of a basic weaving stitch – shed, pick, beat, shed, pick, beat, back and forth, over and under – requires a mindfulness that can become similar to meditation.  The same thing happens with crocheting a shawl, or beading a rosary. I have learned not to multi-task, in almost anything I do, even at work. I prefer instead to focus on the task at hand. So it has been a welcome mindfulness practice as I learned to weave. I also don’t get mad at myself when I make a mistake – I simply notice it and move on to fix it. I now understand why my mother crocheted the doilies; it must have been a welcome escape from the busyness of child rearing and housekeeping.

It’s easy to obsess: The joy of creating fabric – the textures and colors – made me want to make more and more. I found myself looking for more videos, imagining what a certain color combination would look like; wanting to hit the yarn sale at Michael’s; staying up too late reading my weaving book. I couldn’t wait for the weekend in order to warp my loom and start a new project. I enjoyed it so much that I bought a wider loom, so that I could make shawls. When I am almost finished with one shawl, and I already have the next one in my mind.

Time flies: When I am engrossed in something, I lose track of time. I have to set a timer or alarm to remind me that there is more to my life – like laundry, fixing dinner, sleeping – and at some point I have to stop, knowing that the loom will be waiting for me in the corner, like a faithful companion who can captivate me into peace and calm.