If you haven’t read the last post you won’t understand the next couple of sentences, it concerns a device I used that tested my patience. Feel free to scroll to my last post about patience at this time and then come back.
The sneaky way that machine was snipping my thread had to have a cause, besides the excuse of driving me crazy. I knew when I got back to camp I was going to take that box apart and find the means by which the possessed machine was committing its destruction of its own line. There had to be a logical reason that the topofil was doing this, and I found it.
Remember I had mentioned that the when threading the topofil the string had to pushed through glass tubes? The glass tubes were there to mitigate the friction on the thread whenever the string changed direction in the box or passed through the metal and plastic frame. If I remember correctly the tubes were about a quarter-inch in diameter and attached to the box with rubber and metal clamps. I do remember, cause that’s where I found the problem, that the ends of the glass tubes were flared slightly and had a thickened edge for strength. On the thickened edge of the first glass tube I found that a tiny chip of glass had fallen out. There was no crack in the glass like it had been struck, more like an impurity in the glass had fallen out. The hole that was left was angular and the tiny edges sharp. The chip was hard to see even with the box disassembled. I fixed the problem by very carefully removing those sharp edges with the corner of my sharpening stone, then filling the tiny hole with candle wax. Doing this fix while sitting in a damp tent gave me a chance to exercise that patience I was talking about. The secret is now revealed.
I am toying with an idea about what I want to write about next. I am thinking of stringing together some thoughts under the title “Grinding your own grain in a wonder-bread world.” Not that I am actually going to make flour with a grinder, I could write about that as I’ve done it, this is more on the theme of thought processes. In this day and age so many of our thoughts, ideas, impressions, etc about life are given to us like slices of processed white bread, all impurities removed and vitamins re-injected. Individuals can make a sandwich, choosing their own filling, but the sandwich is still framed by the slices reached for in the plastic bag. Starting out with wheat berries and finishing with real bread is hard work, results can vary. The process is the key, think of all the things to be learned along the way. In your own thought life, do you want hollywood or Madison avenue telling you what to think? Life is more than just the end sandwich. Any thoughts out there?