I started spinning during COVID; it was a new hobby I picked up during that time, like so many others. I was able to watch enough YouTube videos to cobble together the basics, and with the help of a cheap spindle and a braid of Merino from a local yarn shop, I managed to spin a skein of passable yarn. However, I found the process of stopping to wind the yarn back onto the spindle cumbersome and would break my focus, so the next logical step was to get a wheel that would both spin and wind the yarn onto the bobbin at the same time. The wheel gave me the spinning experience I was looking for; a continuous activity that opened up a meditative headspace, a liminal experience where an alarm was needed to ensure I did not lose track of time. The practice showed in the yarn; the singles became more consistent, the twist lowering so I did not have hard, wiry yarn.
But… then what? I could make one basic type of yarn, and was not confident enough to branch out into other preparations or types of fibre. The online information became more sparse, and did not help with some of the issues I was coming across. Locally, there were beginner spinning classes, however the higher level classes were not showing up in online searches. The Master Spinners program in Olds was available, so I signed up for the first level and lugged down my ancient Canadian Production Wheel, wincing at every bump on the road. On the first day, I explained that I had learnt the craft from online videos, and asked the teacher to give me corrections for anything the was incorrect in my technique, posture, or a myriad of other areas I did not even know existed when I walked through the classroom door. By the halfway point of the first morning, I had to amend that request to only three corrections at once; it turns out that I had more bad habits than good.
That week completely shifted how I spun, and reinvigorated my love for a hobby that before was starting to become boring, not because of the hobby itself, rather the limitations in my knowledge.