Empty

empty tubes being collected in a plastic bag

Thinking about the things that I have made, I wondered how full the box I collect the empty tubes in had gotten.  I had just recently sent a large bag to a friend with a young person in their home for art/crafting.  But I've made progress in emptying more of the partially full tubes.

Turns out the box is filling nicely.  There must be a couple dozen (at least) empty tubes in there.

I keep the tubes to give to pre-school teachers and when they have their fill, they go into recycle. 

I like the Brassard yarns for a number of reasons, but one reason is that when the tube gets empty enough I can just weave off of it as they fit perfectly into the Leclerc shuttles.  I do have to be careful because if they are too full they don't weave off nicely, but otherwise they act like a paper quill.

The current warp is over the halfway point and should come off the loom by next week.  I do have some other things I need to take care of - like the latest box of homework which arrived yesterday.  The student emailed the written work when the box was put into the hands of Canada Post so over the weekend I did read through that.  The written work generally takes the longest so the actual woven samples should not take too long.  I just need to clear the work table so I can spread things out.

On a personal level, however, I have been feeling a bit...empty.  Over the winter I was in so much pain it was all I could do to drag myself through the day.  I didn't have the energy to do much, so I didn't really miss the drive and energy I had been used to for all of my life.

My new massage therapist told me that it was beyond time for me to stop pushing through the pain, and this time I was ready to listen.

I do still have pain, but it's mostly pretty low level stuff.  Even so, because I'm no longer ignoring it, it does tend to suck what little energy I have out of me.

But I do miss the energy and drive I used to have.  I miss my uninjured body.  I miss being able to leap down the stairs and onto the loom and whap off 5 yards of fabric and not think twice about it.

However, when I start to feel sorry for myself, I try to remember that I have had a (mostly) good life.  That the negative things are outweighed by the positive.

Over the weekend I told some younger friends that I like being the age that I am, with the memories that I have, the experiences I have been privy to, the knowledge that I have acquired.  I just don't like the 'broken' body I currently reside in.

However.  This is where I am.  I have made the most of my life in every way that I could.

When the time comes, I think I can sum up my life as my mother did.  It's been a good life.

I'm just not quite ready to let go yet.  I've got all this yarn, all these ideas.

So I will learn to be content with a slower pace, less energy, less drive.

And I will continue to stay home as much as possible, wear a mask when I go out, wash my hands.