Labyrinth
djjo and I went for a walk around Bruce's Mill Conservation area Sunday morning after hangnaildhole's 40th birthday party. hangnaildhole and atldaddybear live on the edge of a sugarbush in a park. We heard a Northern Parula and saw blue butterflies. I want to live in a place like that.
The sky was achingly clear, the air cool and windy. It fomented the maples and cast dramatic light through the understory.
It strikes me that all the stories I've written so far for the story blanket have been sentimental, and the one I'm doing now is no exception. I need to start knitting the darker side of yarn.
Yesterday we went to High Park and walked the labyrinth based on one at Chartres. It is a course of meditation. It was amusing to see people get frustrated over the lack of choices, skip turns, hurry to the centre or give up, cheating themselves of an opportunity for reflection.
A sign encouraged us to enter with a question, so I did. It occurred to me that knitted yarn is also a labyrinth, a single path convoluting upon itself, moving toward a destination. The goal is meaningless apart from the journey.
