With a seasoned snap of her wrist, more yarn slackened from the ball, and by loop and by hook, the thread was pulled; incorporated into a larger whole. Slowly the bear took shape—a head with cute little ears, then arms, followed by a torso. Yarn was becoming bear.
Don’t pull on the thread.
Over the space of several days, the crocheted bear—golden yellow like the sun—became more and more ursine-like. She was sure the young recipient would be thrilled with it. Over and over again the same motion—wrist snap, thread pull, loop, hook. She didn’t feel the repetition though; she was focused on the outcome.
Don’t pull on the thread.
With one bear sole remaining, the stuffing was added, and then the last loop and hook to seal the paw. One button, two buttons; one eye, two eyes. The bear was complete. She held it up to the light, admiring her creation, being particularly enamored with his cheerful expression. A name immediately popped into her head, though she determined that honour should belong to the new owner.
Don’t pull on the thread.
Pulling on a ball of yarn, and then through repetition and reinforcement of movement, created a crochet bear. The same is true of thoughts. Thoughts are mere loose threads appearing from the vacuum beyond our consciousness; and nothing becomes of them if we don’t pull on them. However, yanking on the yarn of our thinking brain creates concepts, ideas, separation of self from other; and over time, repeated, these take shape, solidifying into perspectives, prejudices, unshakeable beliefs, formed from essentially a loose thread. Instead of using the thread to craft something, we can let it be—allow it to hang loose, remaining ensnared in the ball.
Don’t pull on the thread.
