Skip to main content

warp and weft

The loom is ready.  The warp is prepared and ready to receive the weft.  I look at it with my metaphorical sensibilities and have to smile.  We think our lives are supposed to be uncomplicated and easy.  Like straight, supple lines of warp, wound carefully and doled out to us, a year at a time, with uncompromising appeasement.  How dull is that?  There is nothing to hold it together.  No weft.  The weft is essential: life interacting with life, weaving under and over, creating tension and texture, pattern and variation.

How might our relationships be different if we approached one another with spaciousness.  If we responded to connection and union with a willing invitation to the tensions implicit in dancing with other?  How might our lives look if we abandoned the premise of safety and appeasement and instead welcomed the wonder and uncertainty of the unknown; if we responded, moment by moment, with a weavers hand: respecting the nuance of tension, variety and surprise, without judgement and defense.

If we continue to cultivate a tight warp of pretense and insist on a "warp only" life, we are missing the bliss of union.  The utter abandon of life making love to itself.  The push and pull of passion when life as other, challenges that illusion, one thread at a time.

Today, it is my sincere prayer that my soul may open to the weavers hand and behold the beauty unfolding moment by moment, a splendid dance, woven in time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

a story recently shared by a friend

 Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself...

He is no longer here

Another day has begun.  I have lit my candles and incense.  Sat in silence. Worked up a sweat at the gym.  Eaten breakfast.  Straightened house.  Answered mail and dropped my man off at the airport. It is eight in the morning and the world stirs with wakefulness.  The sun climbs in the sky.  The birds sing.  The squirrels chip and chur in tree branches.  A dog barks.  And I look with dull eyes at the long day ahead, contemplating a single phrase, "My father is dead." What strange words. My father is dead. The man has been leaving for as long as I can remember and yet his death robs the wind from my lungs.  My chest throbs and throat tightens.  He isn't coming back. My mom and dad had slipped out of one another's lives before I'd barely begun mine.  Two weekends a month my brothers and I stood on a saggy porch, bags packed, eager for our hero to arrive in his old blue Ford to pick us up.  We vibrated with hope...

shame

I was recently asked why I blogged or engaged in a continual reflection on my thoughts or feelings.  Wasn't I at least a little ashamed to indulge my continual, narcissistic, self reflection in a world full of genuine need, suffering and pain.  This came at a time when I really had nothing left to battle with. I went belly up with shame.   My old answer didn't suffice.  I no longer blog for the same reason  that I once did.  There wasn't an adequate answer.  Shame asked, "who do you think you are to put your thoughts, ideas and writing out into the world?" Brown  defines shame as the "intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging".  Shame kicked my ass.   I thought of deleting the blog.   I felt ashamed of who I am, how I think, how I feel, how I live.  I came face to face with my own darkest self. Who am I to occupy space?  Who am I...