Begin with an amorphous mass. Rough wool may be hard to work with, but it will create a sturdier piece. As flimsy and disconnected as it may seem, you must tear it apart before you can put it together. Pull the fibers from one another, and feel the wool. Rub it between your hands and wonder at its texture. Think about those things, all those moments in your past that tore at you, the ones you thought you would never survive. Lay the fibers in layers, lying in different directions, and consider the parts of you that no one sees, the gifts you only use in anonymity. Take your needle and pierce the layers, again and again and again. Your arm may begin to ache, but you will forget about it when you begin to see those disconnected strands coalesce. Add more layers and be amazed at how something so flimsy can become so solid. Let the shape of the piece emerge; trying to exert too much control will only create frustration. Move your needle around the piece, not to create the shape, but to bring it to life. Be cautious, but not afraid of the needle — you may prick your finger, but that same dangerous point is necessary to make those many fibers into one. Realize that pain is inseperable from beauty. Once your shape has emerged, add colors as they please your eye, not anyone else’s. Use your fine needle to make patterns, and layer the colors to create new ones. Twirl the wool to make designs. Stop to hold it in your hand and really look at it, not to criticise, just to drink it in. Understand it may never be complete, but that its very incompleteness is fundamental to its nature.
Above all, remember that a perfect heart is never what you thought it would be.
Very cool.
pretty.