Betsy:
I see what you're saying. Whenever I am about to do something in the shop which involves a power tool, I have one hard and fast rule. Go through all the motions in my mind at least once and usually twice before I go through the motions with my body. The absolutely most dangerous thing I could do out there is to do something without being fully prepared.
I guess this is a combination of images and words, and I actually see myself doing the task from two perspectives, outside the body and inside the body. What this does is it makes me think about the safety issues. I would NEVER EVER push a piece of wood into a sawblade with my bare hands if doing so brought me within the red zone of the blade, which is defined by the red table insert that surrounds the blade.
So when I am planning the action I see the need for a push block or similar aid to keep my fingers away from the blade, and then I make sure I have the push block available, because many times I start a cut without the push block and then reach for it during the operation.
I guess I don't use words that much in thinking through these operations, but I guess I hadn't thought of that as thinking.
I'm trying to imagine what it would be like to see music, as has been referred to above, and I cannot wrap my mind around the concept.
Somewhere recently I saw (may have been a part of) a conversation about woodcarving. And what came across to me was that I am unable to do subtractive woodworking. My mind won't let me go from a big block of wood to a carving of a bird. Were I to start whittling I'd end up eventually with no block of wood and a big pile of shavings.
But I can look at a pile of wood and imagine a desk arising out of the pile piece by piece. Right now I'm building four bedside tables for Christmas presents for my immediate family, and though I'm about half finished with the project I've probably picked up a ruler only once or twice, and that was to verify that my height to width ration was somewhere around 1.6 (The Golden Ratio). For all the rest I merely use a story stick or hold a piece of wood up to the place it's supposed to go and use a knife to mark the cut.
In a way I guess this is along the lines of Helen's knowing what the next stitch just naturally has to be, but I'm in complete awe of her ability.
