This morning early, photographed in the light of the sunrise of a new day, I am weaving fast and furiously on the Little Brooklyn, ascending to new heights.

I just want to empty the loom, after many days of struggling with the threads’ betrayal, so that I can again find peace and contentment in weaving through the hours of my day.

Considering the warp tension; if there is too little the warp becomes flabby and the shuttle dives beneath the threads, if there is too much, then there other problems arise, at worst . . . breakage . . . or surface distortion. And if there is a threading mistake, even if the sheds clear, it will reveal itself after the weaving begins, like these mysterious gaps between the warp threads.

Repairing becomes a dilemma, as when a problem persists it usually worsens, like anything in life. One has to decide if fixing it is worth the trouble, or better just to cut it off the loom, lessons learned. However, for this problem warp, I will proceed with diligence to the end, letting the flaws relish in their glory of a first project on a new loom, and I will weave with a fury until I can take it off the loom, and start new. Maybe it will even out in the wash as they say.

Meanwhile, I am encouraged by the ideas coming to my mind for the next weave, as if to weave it is beyond my experience or ability . . . as if I am receiving inspiration from some mysterious unseen luminous source, and I am simply following the instructions.