Obligation and Evidence

I went to the museum on Wednesday for my weekly bobbin winding session.  When I arrived, there were four young men at the front table working on winding their bobbins.  One of the things I like about this project is speculating on the motives of the visitors to the Local Industry exhibit.  Of course, it would be easy enough for me to interview everyone I encounter, find out how and why their involvement came about, but I like supposing.  There was a sense that their visit was required in some way.  They wound their bobbins, one answering a phone call mid-winding, and left. Check.  Bobbins wound.  What's next?
This was in contrast to the two ladies that came in next, sat down to wind bobbins, and continued to wind one after the other, periodically remarking that, "they could do this for hours".  As they left, they remarked on the therapeutic nature of the process.  The two docents at the museum wandered through the exhibit, tidying the work tables, periodically evaluating the bobbins, sometimes unwinding and rewinding a portion that had lost tension, salvaging bobbins that, otherwise, would have been unusable to the weavers.  I find myself at the middle of these levels of obligation.  Like the docents, I am a volunteer.  This project is something I've undertaken because of my interest in Anne's project, the KMA, and as an experiment in writing a weekly article.  My interest is genuine, and my obligation is of my own choosing, however, at times  I also have the feeling of checking my visit off my list.  Check. Bobbins wound.  What next?  But like many things that begin as obligations, I find I remember why I undertake them through the process.  I, too, find therapy in the accumulating thread.  This week, I wound tranquil turquoise, green and flaxen yellow.  Renewed, I moved on to the next thing.

(This week I took pictures of my bobbins and all the other bobbin boxes in the factory.  They become evidence of personality.  I love that.  Perhaps more on this idea next week.)