Learning to spin on a Tibetan Spindle . . . the Zen of Trust

Some time back I decided I had to learn to spin on a supported spindle. So, being me, I bought a Tibetan Spindle from Neal Brand. And it sat in the spindle cabinet while I got used to the idea of it. Part of the getting used to it process involved watching anything I could find on YouTube that involved supported spindling, including Fleegle's excellent videos, more than once.
     Last month, I took the spindle out of the cabinet and tried spinning some angora fluff on it. That didn't work well. More viewing of Fleegle's videos ensued. The spindle went back in the cabinet (mostly so I didn't throw it at the wall). I stayed with my drop spindles and completed the October Spinner's challenge on Ravelry.
     This month, more viewing of Fleegle's videos. And finally, something clicked:

Alpaca, merino silk batt from The Cupcake Fiber Co. 

 Peaches is being remarkably patient posing as a support for the supported spindle. Not long after I snapped the picture, he flexed his meathooks and began to make motions toward the spindle. It went safely back into the spindle cabinet, and he and I ate our youghurt.
     Supported spinning calls for long-draw drafting, and that's something I've struggled with for, like, ever. My left hand wants to clamp down on the fluffly fibers in a death grip. And as I'm thinking about it, my right hand really does as well. This could explain the pinched nerve sensation in my neck on the right side, and the ache in my left wrist (although that could be due to upcoming snow -- the titanium plate tends to make the wrist sensitive to such things).
     Last night was a little different. I started out tense and clamping down, and of course the spinning was neither easy nor fun. I finally relaxed a little and suddenly the long-draw began to happen. And even more rewarding, I was able -- finally -- to flick the spindle and manipulate the yarn with both hands while the spindle did it's own thing. Now, granted, it's with nowhere near the fluency and grace that Fleegle has . . . but then, my friend Sara said it best: "the only thing you start at top with is a post hole."
     I spun for about an hour, ending on a good note (i.e. the point at which I took the picture of the growing cop and spindle resting against the Mighty Peaches). Then I fiddled around with windows updates, and went googling for Tibetan spindles. (Yes, I know; I have one . . . but they're like Lay's potato chips . . .) I didn't find a hot-to-go spindle, but I did find a little blog about spinning on supported spindles that I didn't think to bookmark, I just internalized. The author talked about the difference between drop spindles and supported spindles, and made the most excellent point that spinning on a supported spindle requires one to let go a little bit and relax into the spinning.
     What I extracted from that parallels the philosophy I had as a professional psychotherapist: trust the process. In a world that is becoming increasingly results-oriented, research-based, outcomes measured, quantified, qualified and rationalized, the process seems to be taking an increasingly small role. We focus on solutions and end-results and push students in schools harder and faster, put more and more pressure on teachers, therapists, clerical staff, janitors . . . outcomes, outcomes, outcomes. Yes, well. I'd like the outcome of really well-spun yarn on my Tibetan spindle, and someday I'll get that. What I've got going now is not too bad . . . and it will improve with time and practice. What won't improve it is me focusing so hard (and gripping so hard) on the end result that I ignore the process of getting to that yarn.
    
 

Which spinning wheel to buy?

I've noticed some things about myself over time. When I think about buying something, I tend to research and research and over research. Then I find a good deal, and agonize about it. I weigh the pros and cons, and generally make myself somewhat crazy in the process. And thinking about buying a new spinning wheel has not been one jot different.
      When I was first thinking about getting a spinning wheel, I researched and researched and then researched some more. I ended up buying a Spinolution Queen Bee, because of the ease of treadling on my knees, the portability, and the expanded spinning ratios that were included. Well, it was a success in that the treadling was very easy on my knees, the orifice height was just right, and it was portable. However, those were really the only things I loved about the QB . . . so down the road she went.
     I went to the opposite extreme with the Merlin Tree Roadbug, after an agonizing research process between the RB and the new Schacht Sidekick. Now, don't get me wrong. I love this little RB wheel. I have enough ratios to keep me happy, and she's very small and very portable. She fits nicely (with the offside treadle removed) in the wonderful Laurel Burch bag I got to be my "spinning bag". She's direct drive, so no fiddly strings to break, or stretch, or jump their tracks, or what-have-you. The bobbins are generous, holding six or more ounces of spun fiber. Plying is relatively easy. I've spun some really nice yarn on her. And, I really love Dave's philosophy about making a wheel that can be, in a pinch, repaired from items commonly found at Ace Hardware. (Not so easy at Home Depot, btw.)
     Then I started having this issue with my neck. I went to the chiropractor a couple of times, and he poked and prodded and jackhammered and cracked and crunched, and it was all better. Until I started spinning on the wheel. Now some of it is, sans doubt, my own body mechanics. But there is no way around the fact that the RB has an orifice height of 17 inches, with no possible adjustment that I can see without rebuilding the wheel. I have an office chair that I use for spinning that adjusts up, down, tilts, and has arms that get right up out of the way easily, and even sitting with the chair in its lowest position, I'm still having a particular neck pain that I did not have with the QB.
     So, once again, I'm in the market for a wheel. I've found a heck of a deal on a used Majacraft on Ravelry . . . and thinking strongly about it. It's one of those deals that includes virtually every add on a person could want, and that few that are not included are quite reasonably priced. So total outlay of cash is in the "acceptable" range. So what's my hold up?
     I fell in love with the looks of the Majacraft Rose, and discarded it as 1) Too expensive at the time and 2) Not really very portable. Well, the one I'm looking at is heavier but less expensive used. Did I mention not really very portable? I spin in the kitchen, and keep the wheel stored in the craft room down stairs. A matter of two doors, and two steps. Plus, I really like to go to spinner's study group at my favorite LYS, and while either wheel will fit in the back of my Suby Forester, the getting it in and out of the back may be something of challenge, given the state of my neck.
     But I digress. I really fell in love with the looks of the Rose . . . and the "good deal wheel" is not a Rose. So I wonder, if I buy the "good deal wheel" will I end up being annoyed with myself because it's not a Rose?