A few years ago I started this blog, with the dream of writing something extraordinary to share with the world. I gave it a great name: Weaving Words, imagining that I could collect a multitude of  thoughts of all colours and textures,  and warp and weft them into enduring beauty. 

 It didn't happen.

 I set myself up for failure by the very demanding name I gave my blog, or rather, the demanding image I had created of what the blog should be like.  As a consequence, everything I wrote seemed foolish.  I worried too much about what I should include and what I should withhold, that nothing became of it. 

But what I really should have been doing was weaving, regardless. It didn't have to be a  silk Isfahan rug with a fine knot count. It could have been the humblest of baskets.

All it really had to be was sincere.

So I am starting again. I will write, criss-crossing words as they come, and be content with my handiwork, however it turns out. 

It doesn't have to be a masterpiece.