I haven't woven in a very long time, too long, long enough to forget some of the finer points involved as this heap of lovely, tangled linen will attest. I decided not to get out my ball winder and just wind a skein of yarn directly using the back of a chair. I know better than to do this but stubbornness united with a desire for immediate action and led headlong into this mess. As the yarn became more and more tangled I found myself falling apart, my heart cramping, knotting into a ball. Until finally I gave up and walked away from the disarray I had made and stood a few feet off with a bent head, tears rolling silently down my cheeks, alone, in my silent house, candle flickering in the back ground. I stared for a time at that wreck of yarn and felt the weight of my own internal tangle. The tears fell. People keep telling me to be grateful as if gratitude will cure everything and I am. They beat me with it whenever I raise my head from my internal cramp and voice the ach