The Thread

 

The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

~ William Stafford ~

(The Way It Is)

The image of life being a tapestry with each of us being a different colored thread, has always captivated me.  Thinking that others with their differing colors have been woven through my life, enhances this held image.

I do believe my life has been created with colored thread weaving through it.  Some threads have faded and some have snagged, while others remain vibrantly beautiful.  Some have stretched through the passing of time, and yet others have only contributed a small accent of color.

My own thread sometimes has been like a thick rope pulling me through stubbornness and strife.  Clear like a fishing line, my thread has often been invisible but weighted to ground me.  During motherhood, my thread was vibrant and strong.  When using gifts and talents, my thread was richly creating designs life long.  In times of sadness, the thread was a life line casting a dark hue, holding me where I belonged.

Do we ever really know where we are going and what lies just beyond the bend?  Do we ever really notice the patterns as they unfold in our head?  Does anyone ever really understand that we are simply led by the thread?



Sinking into the Solitude



 You Reading This, 

Be Ready

Starting here, what do you want to remember? 

How sunlight creeps along the shining floor?

What scent of old wood hovers,

what softened sound from outside

fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world

than the breathing respect that you carry

wherever you go right now?

Are you waiting

for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around,

starting here,
lift this
new glimpse that you found;

carry into evening all that you want from this day.

This interval you spent reading

or hearing this,

keep it for life ~

What can anyone give you greater than now,

starting here,
right in this room,

when you turn around?

William Stafford

As the sun slips down into the horizon, I too seem to settle into the approaching darkness.  I have noticed the smallest of things today, and have overlooked that which looms before me.  

I have held dearly the clouds in the pristine sky, the fragrance of the wisteria, and the chirping of the birds building a nest in the tree in the moments of my day.  In learning to carry these glimpses into my evening I am quiet and still.  I fear by turning around I will find that I am not present at all as I am sinking into the solitude of my soul.