A Fantasy

I am a weaver.  I weave the practical cloth used in practical clothing and household items.  The cloth is sturdy and in practical colors, grays, browns, blacks.  All day long I weave, the shuttle and loom going at a steady pace, whoomp, whoomp, my hands and feet working the loom to produce the textiles that will go to sturdy, practical use.  Year after year I wove, slowly, steadily, piles of practical sturdy cloth in the practical colors. 

One day, sunlight streamed in the room as I wove, the sun warm on my face and making feel me feel warmer and peaceful.  I felt compelled to add one strand of a pale color to my weaving.  It was barely noticeable to anyone else, but I knew I had done it.  I didn’t tell anyone I had done it, and I continued to weave, with that one strand of pale color.  It subtlety changed the look of the cloth; it didn’t look quite so practical anymore. 

Over time I kept adding one more strand of different pale colors, the cloth was beginning to have a warmer look, still practical, still sturdy, but with a richer look to the grays, blacks and browns.  Those practical colors had subtle accents of pale greens, golds and blues.  I continued to weave the cloth piling up at my feet, but the shuttle and loom moved at slightly faster pace, there was anticipation in the weaving. 

One morning, as I started to set up my loom to begin a new piece of cloth, I noticed several balls of yarn that I didn’t remember having.  The yarn looked different than what I was used to using.  It had what I took to be imperfections, different texture, different appearance and they were bright colors that I had never worked with.  My hand hovered over the basket with the “imperfect” yarn for a moment, but practicality won out, and the gray and the black yarn, with one strand of a pale color was used for the cloth.  As I wove my eyes kept looking at the basket of “imperfect” yarn, the colors were bright, almost garish in comparison to the practical colors I always used. 

As the days went by, other weavers began to set up their looms by me.  At first, it was one weaver, than other weavers began to join us.  No longer was I weaving in solitude, with only the sound of loom at its steady pace…….now it was many looms, each going at a different pace, weaving different types of cloth.  Some were weaving practical cloth, with blacks, browns and shades of gray.  Others were weaving cloth that seemed to have no practical purpose at all, just yards of color and pattern.  Others were weaving a mixture of the practical and the impractical, depending on the season and purpose.   As I watched the other weavers, and talked with them the basket of yarn with the bright colors and textures began to look more and more appealing.  I set up my loom in preparation to weave my practical cloth.  My hand hesitated over the baskets of yarn and pulled out a strong blue shade, the blue was of varying width, tightly woven at some points and with loose open look at other points of the strand.  It would be the backdrop of my weaving, provide the strength and the foundation of the cloth.