The sound of the wheel, the colors of the thread, the look of the yarns spinning together, each distinct, but joining in harmony. I think of us—made of so many parts, child, teen, adult and elder—I think of us, made of so many parts, happy, hurt, wounded, warrior—I think of us, made of so many parts, teacher, student, mother, lover—I think of us, made of so many parts, spinning into one, spinning into wholeness, spinning the spiral, the spiral spinning.

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