A woollen thread

The last year has been an the hardest in my life. I have fought every little bit of it, trying to stay in above water, but it just keeps on giving. There are light moments, but they are like candles in a grey foggy forest, no colour or shadows, and don't last long enough to give me hope. I have realised how fragile life is. How vulnerable we all are, how we live on a woollen thread, laying out a new direction every moment, even in our sleep. The thread gets stuck, tangled up with other threads. It gets coloured, ripped and muddled. Even looping around itself to create knots that you have to leave behind. There is no stopping this, it's the inner workings of yourself, every cell in your body taking part in laying it out. You can look behind you and see where you have been, but not clearly for very long, because light and distance make it fade. Your glasses might fog up, and it becomes distorted.

You pass other threads, some thick and straight, some light and wispy, and some colourful, crossing your path. With a growing understanding you want to reach out and help them up and to be strong. The unfairness in this world is right there for us to see, life isn't fair or easy. It never was.

Almost 18 years ago my yarn split, and I was two. A thread that was me and not me at the same time. I had to nurture it, to guide it, to make it move and get stronger. It scared me breathless, because its perfect imperfection required careful attention to carry its own weight. I watched another thread perish and stop, it felt too close to my thread, and I was so scared. He had a name.

15 years ago I split again, and how wonderful it was to see it just find its path. No beeping machine needed, oh how my own thread was pulsing, colourful, warm and strong. True bliss with blinkers on.

Being the strong thread that pulled others behind me, guiding, loving, nurturing but also making a knot here and there. But with all the love and rainbow fluff created, it didn't matter. It was living a life in some sort of harmony, I had purpose, I had speed and traction.

These two threads that I have created have left my side in a way I was not part of. Someone else has decided that my thread wasn't good enough. My path wasn't straight, it sometimes stopped a bit, it got tangled and confused. It had left its neighbourhood, where it had spent it's childhood, grown up and made a home. The two threads that I split from were far away, and my purpose and meaning were faltering. It is every little woolly path spinner's worst nightmare, missing sight of their split, and not feeling safe about them. We form connections that is stronger then thoughts, it sits in your spine, your gut and can make your hair stand up outside your control.

I have put up small signs in the forest with arrows pointing home. I sometimes whisper their names, wanting them to recognise my voice. Make them remember the slow singing of goodnight songs, the laughter and the joy of being hurled up in the air. The safety when it was dark outside, and the warmth of being carried on my back, sleeping its little woolly heart through a Norwegian summer evening. Memories reminding me of how brief this stay is, and how finite the path is.

In my nightmare I dream of them being repurposed, gathered up and moved away from where I left them. This is the hardest part. It was time to let them find their own path, but it wasn't gentle and it wasn't me letting go when I felt time was right. It was just not time yet.

I will leave this little note for them to find, and maybe it will help them gather strength and direction. To see how we are meant to be woven together, to form stronger bonds, to keep ourselves safe and help us not fall into dark cracks, and pull us back up.

I have knots. I have breakage and grit in my wool. I have a colourful path, with twists and turns. Once cherished and whooped about, it all has its time. My wool is worn in places and I have needed help to keep it together. I am still hanging on, reaching out, I need more than a straw, because this is heavy.

When I close my eyes, and reach out, then I can feel your little hands in mine. Much fuller and stronger now, we still need each other. I am here, and I will continue rolling out my thread, as I know we can do better.