This is the third in my ongoing series of post-modern fairy tales. You can read the rest here.She sat down to plan a new coaching program. It was purely a mental exercise, to try out a new model of program planning which she had learned.
Crickets chirped, and tumble weed blew past the computer screen, as absolutely no ideas came to her. Not one. When she went for a walk to clear her head, her eureka moment finally came, and she flew back inside to write it down before she forgot it.
But… was it really such a good idea? It was a pretty grand scheme, and did it really fit into the pattern she was trying set? If her goal was to help people in cities learn to see the nature all around them, then how the hell did using a drop spindle as a coaching tool fit in? It didn’t.
So she sat some more.
She could expand it into a whole sheep-to-scarf program, beginning by taking everyone to the local wool and sheep festival to see how sheep really get sheared. She’d have to figure out where to buy large quantities of wool (how unprocessed should it be? Should they card the wool themselves, or get it pre-carded?). It’ll be easy to make drop spindles – one of her own spindles was literally a dowel with a hook on one end and a wooden disc on the other….
She shook her head to clear her thoughts, reminding herself that this was a stupid plan. Seriously, she doesn’t even know that much about spinning. Surely, dozens of other people would be better qualified.
First time spinners might not have enough yarn at the end to make a scarf – especially if they are also first time crocheters. Or she could learn to knit before then, since knitting uses less yarn.
A gnome – maybe waist height – with a red hat and a blue shirt spoke up.
“Excuse me, miss? But I think you may have missed something. You see, you think your goal is to initiate people into the nature that is in the city, and that’s not quite right. It’s a part of it, sure, but not the real thing.”
She wasn’t as surprised by the gnome as she perhaps should have been. At the very least, it might explain all the needle felted gnomes she’d made the previous summer, assuming he’d been living in her building for awhile.
“Are you sure? ‘Cause I really thought it was.”
“No, you want to introduce people to the magic that can be found in the city, or really in modern life. And nothings more magic than spinning! Why, that’s been in lots of fairy tales, from Rumpelstiltzkin to Sleeping Beauty!”
She listened to the gnome. He wasn’t completely off the mark. And yet…
“But I’m not sure how to do that.”
He tilted his head and looked through her. “Why does that matter? All you have to do right now is start, child! No one born knows the end yet, anyway; why should you be any different?”
“Errr… because how can I get where I want to go if I don’t know where that is?” She thought that was pretty obvious. Every bit of advice she’d ever heard was that you needed to know where you were going. If you don’t have a destination, all roads are the same, right?
The gnome actually face palmed; she didn’t quite know what to make of that. “Humans…. you’re all so literal, like the physical world is all there is! You need to know where you’re going – you need to know how the end result will feel, how it will taste on your tongue and your soul. You do not need the entire road map. You really, really don’t.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say, so she stopped there.