woolgathering

My darling and supportive husband asked me across the breakfast table this morning at 5:15, "what are you writing about today?" Probably because he heard the sound of my squirrel-tapping on the keyboard and thought perhaps I was writing already. Oh no, I answered. I very seldom just get up and write right away. There is this first part first, this process of woolgathering.
What a lovely expression, I think. And naturally, I didn't know Patti Smith has a book of poetry by the same name. But really, what a lovely word with quite old and pastoral origins.
I do spend a fair amount of time woolgathering every morning, reading all of the email that's materialized overnight, checking what's new on Facebook, clicking through links and reading, taking in that first coffee and those first words of the day. In that process my little brain is making connections so that an idea or two arrives, seemingly unbidden, but really, gathered up like bits of wool while on a ramble through the fields.
Oh, woolgathering: how I love thee.
I really do NEED the woolgathering, I think. It's at the root of why I get up so early. I need this precious time to let out the net of my mind, let it catch the current, drift, float, sink. When I reel it back in, sometimes, magic, there's something good in there.
And things just write themselves, really. They write themselves.
I've been in a bit of a spin for the past 5 days, ever since I heard about a small local yoga studio whose owner is wanting to give away the business to the right person, the person who's going to take it over, run it from there. I've had one meeting with that owner, and countless emails and conversations with friends and teachers, and a meeting tomorrow with someone who specializes in launching, programming, marketing studios. I've been researching and list-making and number-crunching and visioning. It almost feels like all of the friendships and connections I've made in the past 9 years are coming together powerfully at once -- everyone I talk to is enthusiastic and encouraging.
And I worry that it's more woolgathering.
That's a negative. I worry that I'm just wasting time, taking it away from other pursuits like writing or farming or honey-selling or, seriously, managing other aspects of my life. I wonder if I'm just idly indulging in fantasy, distraction. That train of thought is a serious downer, right?
I think it's just fear talking, really, trying to impose itself on top of the exuberant drive this idea gives me. I know I can make it work, I know I can do it, and not alone, but in the company of people I really love and respect. I know I can make something awesome. I know this could be tremendous fun and tremendous joy and tremendous WORK. And you know how much I love to work, so that's no deterrent. But it's work that will create something possibly great, so of course I'm in a bit of a dither, looking things up online, scribbling ideas, putting together my personal dream team, the studio I have always wanted to practice in, thinking about how yoga and bees go together so well, this shared idea of the hive, the colony, the nectar, the sweetness.
Bam. This is another dream-come-true.
I tell myself that even if it IS woolgathering, why is that bad? I'm having fun, I'm not neglecting anything else in my life, I really think it could work. So why not try, why not spend this time engaged with this particular possibility, the net of my mind cast way out, gathering what it gathers. If nothing else, I tell myself, like always, it's an experience. I'll learn something, I'll carry it with me, I'll empty the net and fill my pockets with shiny bits.
Poor, poor woolgathering gets such a bum rap. How much greatness in the world has come from that idle indulgence in fantasy, from letting the mind wander where it will go? I could spend an hour just looking that up and reading about it and thinking, but instead I think I'll go back to yoga business planning, flesh that dream out a little more, watch and see what the net brings up next.
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