Orientation
A weaving machine strung with human bodies: this is the image Onians recovers from Njáls Saga, where the Norns set up a loom “stretching afar and portending slaughter,” its warp a line of spears and its weights human heads. The horror is exact, not decorative. Onians reads the loom’s vertical threads as the literal measure of a life’s duration, so that fate-weaving and time-reckoning become a single archaic operation, the same equation he finds beneath Plato’s Myth of Er, where Lachesis, Klotho, and Atropos divide spinning from weaving but never separate thread from destiny. Homer supplies the domestic counter-image: Penelope’s loom, in Lattimore’s rendering, turns the same instrument toward delay rather than doom, weaving by day and unweaving by night to hold Odysseus’s household in suspension. Iain McGilchrist finds the symbol resurfacing clinically in James Tilly Matthews’s “Air Loom,” a persecutory machine of bellows and rays that Matthews believed controlled his mind, the paranoid psyche externalizing fate-control with startling fidelity to the myth. Andrew Louth locates the opposite move, an Orthodox theology in which the loom withdraws entirely inward, becoming, in St Justin Popović’s phrase, the soul itself, woven by virtue.