I've been wandering a lot lately, kind of pinging from this to that, pushed along with life's occasional mallet to the head, the heart or the gut, drifting in a sort of ethereal edge between life and nightmare, not quite in either. I feel like a dangling participle, unattached, grabbing for the nearest noun and making no sense. Progress now is actively looking for my noun.
I've properly attached my participle to several really good nouns over the years, with Mother perhaps the best, albeit pretty challenging at times; but as kids do, they grew up so Mother is no longer an anchoring noun. Student is another noun I fully embrace and I am the type who enjoyed diagramming all those sentences back in freshman year high school English class, which should suggest how I feel about dangling participles.
Rabbit and fiber have been my most public nouns, my go to comfort nouns. Pretty good ones too, all that snuggly softness, and so much cute it's like Easter candy. Too much dulls the desire. No, no, I'm not giving up the bunnies! But I have scaled back a little. Nature has helped with that,with only bucks showing up in my litters for the past year, and most of my does either aging out of the breeding line up or some trait turning up that I will not perpetuate: droopy ear, white spots, bad teeth. With my strict criteria for acceptable breeding quality, I now have 1 breedable doe. Jury is still out, but I think she just gave me 3 more bucks. I don't remember hanging out that "buck stops here" sign, but I'll happily (hoppily?) give it to the first taker.
I did invest in a whole bunch of fiber, some delightful merino, with plans to get batty. Some batts will be for sale, some will be for felting. I made a few sample batts, experimenting with colors and textures, those lovely sensuous nouns fluffing a bit of happy back into life. Feeling those fibers slip through my fingers tickled that creative urge, that need to surrender thought and body to a special project, to make something uniquely mine. In this wandering lately, I stumbled over Shalom and felt a whisper, a quiet calling that I need to make one of these. Not just follow the pattern, but start with it, and use it to explore, to challenge me, to kick the old brain back into action, to attach to life. That the word shalom has such rich meaning revolving around peace and wholeness does not escape my notice. So too, I am aware that the pattern is published in a blog called Involving the Senses. It is in the sensory world that I am most comfortable.
I am not going to buy yarn. I'm going to spin it. When I spin yarn, the soothing repetition of treadle treadle treadle and feed fiber onto bobbin gently eases the brain into relaxing alpha waves. In that state, my mind leaves behind thoughts of finances and future and interplay of calcification and cachexia on an aging heart I treasure. In that alpha state, my mind embraces the project at hand, balancing twist with grist. Slowly my mind slips into more meditative visualizing the sweater and how mine will differ, how mine will reflect me. And the longer I spin, the more meditative the mind, the more flirtation with elusive theta waves. Those theta waves take thoughts on a magical mystery tour and if I can hang on to them as beta moves back in, I'll find that elusive noun I know is the right one for my currently dangling participle.