The Trap
The unlikely twins had struck again!
I had been restless and impatient, yet imprisoned by ennui. Just when a mix of ideas was brewing to its fullness, the magical catalyst that brings thought to life had gone missing. Like a switch that wouldn't come on when pressed.
I shared my concerns with people.
Sometimes I expressed my own frustration in private. I just scribbled the scattered thoughts down. Or talked to myself. In my head ...
I watched the tender green fruits emerging on the jackfruit tree nearby. Some consumed by birds before they could grow, others shriveling away. Were my thoughts akin to those? Would the brew be flat yet again for want of the spark? Maybe those immature fruits were reborn in the spring songs of those very birds. Maybe what shriveled had its own destiny to fulfill as part of the universe? As we too do when this lifetime ends.
Never Not Broken
My mind raced through to the Goddess Akhilandeshvari. The one who affirmed that we were anyway always in pieces - broken, scattered pieces. I was impelled to share that I was acutely conscious of my own brokenness in this phase and troubled by it.
I confided to a friend:
"I feel like I have fallen to pieces and am gathering the pieces now and setting them into new patterns. Like a kaleidoscope that had a crash and has gone for an upgrade. I am angry because the pieces are not coming together into works of writing"
Were these random sentences all that came forth, in fulfillment of a promise to myself that I would write every single day? Something, anything, even a shopping list.
In speaking up though, I was making the connections needed to create a meaningful piece of writing.
I found myself returning to the theme of pieces. I was responding in an unlikely context related to the idea that identity assertion was divisive and led to conflict,
"You need not necessarily separate yourself but be part of a pattern of diversity. It's like pieces of a jigsaw or threads on a loom. You could shake them up into a state of confusion/violence or they could harmonize into a beautiful pattern."
The threads were being spun in my Arachne-conscious. Their role as connectors was emerging unknown to me.
Those Invisible Golden Threads
Kim it was who ignited the golden spark that illuminated the thread and made it come to life in my imagination.
"Just because the pieces may seem to be detached and scattered at times, doesn't mean there isn't a golden thread attaching them.
It just takes time for the thread to become obvious.
Maybe because we focus on the pieces themselves and not on their connectors"
The thread is always there, has always been. Several threads that connect, relate and reveal patterns. Yet emanate from our common creative source. Just as we are in pieces always - Never Not Broken. Waiting for threads to connect those pieces into creations of value. These threads are active in my imagination. They are delicate, and it takes grace, patience finesse to transfer those patterns to a page that can be held up to view.
Maybe my promise to myself could be "Look out for the golden thread. Handle with care." Visible to the inner eye, it takes tender craftsmanship to render visible to the eyes that read the written word. The inner ear listens for its delicate lyre-string too. So the voice can speak it out in affirmation.
As I started to write this post, through sheer chance I ran into this song by Pete Seeger.
More affirmation. Nothing is random. There are patterns waiting to be recognized.
Kim came back with more:
"Have you heard of the plant named golden thread? It's so mysterious and wonderful. I wrote about it in my book. Above the earth it's a simple, low-growing woodland plant; but if you dig into the earth you find its roots, and they're gold! All interlocked in a wonderful golden network of threads :-) "
The unlikely twins had struck again!
I had been restless and impatient, yet imprisoned by ennui. Just when a mix of ideas was brewing to its fullness, the magical catalyst that brings thought to life had gone missing. Like a switch that wouldn't come on when pressed.
I shared my concerns with people.
Sometimes I expressed my own frustration in private. I just scribbled the scattered thoughts down. Or talked to myself. In my head ...
I watched the tender green fruits emerging on the jackfruit tree nearby. Some consumed by birds before they could grow, others shriveling away. Were my thoughts akin to those? Would the brew be flat yet again for want of the spark? Maybe those immature fruits were reborn in the spring songs of those very birds. Maybe what shriveled had its own destiny to fulfill as part of the universe? As we too do when this lifetime ends.
Never Not Broken
My mind raced through to the Goddess Akhilandeshvari. The one who affirmed that we were anyway always in pieces - broken, scattered pieces. I was impelled to share that I was acutely conscious of my own brokenness in this phase and troubled by it.
I confided to a friend:
"I feel like I have fallen to pieces and am gathering the pieces now and setting them into new patterns. Like a kaleidoscope that had a crash and has gone for an upgrade. I am angry because the pieces are not coming together into works of writing"
Were these random sentences all that came forth, in fulfillment of a promise to myself that I would write every single day? Something, anything, even a shopping list.
In speaking up though, I was making the connections needed to create a meaningful piece of writing.
I found myself returning to the theme of pieces. I was responding in an unlikely context related to the idea that identity assertion was divisive and led to conflict,
"You need not necessarily separate yourself but be part of a pattern of diversity. It's like pieces of a jigsaw or threads on a loom. You could shake them up into a state of confusion/violence or they could harmonize into a beautiful pattern."
The threads were being spun in my Arachne-conscious. Their role as connectors was emerging unknown to me.
Those Invisible Golden Threads
Kim it was who ignited the golden spark that illuminated the thread and made it come to life in my imagination."Just because the pieces may seem to be detached and scattered at times, doesn't mean there isn't a golden thread attaching them.
It just takes time for the thread to become obvious.
Maybe because we focus on the pieces themselves and not on their connectors"
The thread is always there, has always been. Several threads that connect, relate and reveal patterns. Yet emanate from our common creative source. Just as we are in pieces always - Never Not Broken. Waiting for threads to connect those pieces into creations of value. These threads are active in my imagination. They are delicate, and it takes grace, patience finesse to transfer those patterns to a page that can be held up to view.
Maybe my promise to myself could be "Look out for the golden thread. Handle with care." Visible to the inner eye, it takes tender craftsmanship to render visible to the eyes that read the written word. The inner ear listens for its delicate lyre-string too. So the voice can speak it out in affirmation.
As I started to write this post, through sheer chance I ran into this song by Pete Seeger.
Kim came back with more:
"Have you heard of the plant named golden thread? It's so mysterious and wonderful. I wrote about it in my book. Above the earth it's a simple, low-growing woodland plant; but if you dig into the earth you find its roots, and they're gold! All interlocked in a wonderful golden network of threads :-) "
Pictures taken at my home on Vasant Panchami - yes that is a golden thread amid the flowers
Almost a full month into the new year I wish my readers the gift of this Golden Thread! Sometimes we lose sight of its presence. We need to believe that it lies concealed. You are all part of the pattern. In whatever form you recognize it, may it be yours!
Footnote: Do view the links. They part of this network of threads, part of patterns concealed and revealed.
Footnote: Do view the links. They part of this network of threads, part of patterns concealed and revealed.
