Golden Threads

On Thanksgiving when friends came by for cocktails in the evening, my sweet (beautiful, brilliant, resilient, wise) friend spent some time seated with me next to my fireplace, talking of a great many things, the two of us enjoying being in each other’s confidence while the Mr. Darcy’s of the world left us to our own devices. As we talked she mentioned rereading the journals she kept while she lived and worked overseas for a year. She reveled in the adventures she had, in the differences between our society and the cultures she encountered, and some of the choices she made. As she talked about her reflections, my interest was piqued and for the rest of the weekend I found myself finding reasons to stop whatever it was that I was doing to read what I have published here.

Those who know me well know I tend to retread the grounds I’ve already walked upon but usually that takes place within a day or two rather than weeks or even months down the road.

In my reading I was surprised at my insights into myself. I talked of looking for humor and finding the positive long before the darkest parts of this journey began, of accepting the lessons thrown at me long before I had any idea how difficult the lessons would be, and of persevering through difficulties. Before the most difficult bits came to pass I already seemed to have a plan to handle them and I already knew myself well enough to know exactly what inner work would be necessary for me to survive this storm.

Brava, Miss Gwen!

What I really enjoyed, however, was seeing the golden threads in the tapestries woven by my words.

I think if people realized how much their words or actions inspire what I write they would be horrified. Wait. I’m not supposed to tell you that. Shhh… You didn’t see anything.

Where was I? Ah, yes…

The golden threads glinting throughout the colorful tapestries woven by my words in the Tales of Gwen the Kintsukuroi.

Golden threads are perhaps my favorite part of the tapestries I see when I look back at what has been written thus far. They’re threads I found in conversations with those I esteem, in strangers, in notes from loved ones and friends, threads that make me think, “oh, shiny,” as I reach out to pluck them. Those golden, precious threads weave their way into my thoughts and dreams, my inner dialogue, my reflections, meditations, and prayers until I sit down to write and they quietly, cleverly fall into the loom. Occasionally I see them fall and quietly tie them into the piece like little Easter eggs left for those from whom they came to find and recognize while at other times I seem oblivious to their presence until I step back to admire my work. I never seem to be aware of how long each thread is or how prevalent each thread may be in the scheme of things, and until today I didn’t realize how many threads are woven from one tapestry to the next, and the next.

Taking a walk in my recollections of the last several months and seeing the golden glimmers shining in my work, I savored the memories of each golden thread and how each sliver of gold left in my hands brought out of me a greater work. I see how different people’s slivers shine differently and where those who were in the work at the beginning may not be now. I am amazed at the influence of a select few can be seen ebbing and flowing through my work over the course of months. It seems I have some whose influence borders on the power of the fair goddess Muse.

What is incredibly compelling for me in the reflection on this journey so far is that the gold being forged and used to mend my brokenness in the kintsukuroi of my life has been brought to me and left by those whom I esteem, respect, and cherish greatly. Amazing, isn’t it, that the gold has come to me, already purified, prepared, stretched thin and ready for the fire to warm and mold it into the perfect glue to put my brokenness back together again?

The most powerful part of this is that those whose gold has been woven the most in my tapestries, those who have mended piece after piece, are likely completely unaware of the impact they have had whether it is because they simply aren’t reading what I put forth, because of humility, or because of a willing suspension of belief that what was written at some level came from them.

Yet here I sit, piece after piece returning to its rightful place, weaving my words into a tapestry even I cannot fathom, predict, or see the end of thanks to the golden threads left in my hands.

(Expansion, artist: Paige Bradley, pictured in Brooklyn, New York; photographic credit: unknown photographer)

Never forget that each encounter you have may be the gold that gives someone the little bit more they need to mend that which is broken… or the dross that takes away the shine from what is already there.

12 thoughts on “Golden Threads

  1. I just walked a journey with you through fine woven tapestries singing out that they are real and waiting and oh, how I look for the gold in my own words woven into something not quite as clear. Humbly admit I too found the gold was prepared as I proceeded down the road less traveled. Kit, utterly beautiful writing, and awe-inspiring reflection. You are simply a joy to read and each post is a gift to those of us lucky enough to have read it!~Kim

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Pingback: Golden Threads – Stone in the Road

  3. Your ability to walk me through your self-reflection so effortlessly is humbling. I know it can’t be easy to find the calmness needed to reflect the way you did on this one. I don’t know who this person was that was with you that day, but would you tell them “thank you” for me?

    Also, I love the picture of that statue you used in this one.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Someone 🤷🏻‍♀️ (complete mystery who) used a picture of that statue recently and said it reminded me of them. I’m now completely obsessed with her…! She is the inspiration for the celebratory tattoo I am getting.

      I was awestruck at my calmness and wisdom at the beginning of this whole journey. The strength and Gwen-ness were there all along, I recognized and named them, it just took a bit for me to step into them and accept them. I thought when I started that I’d find someone who was less sure, more afraid, but I didn’t. It hurt to read knowing this piece was this day, that piece was that realization, but at the same time I saw how my voice became stronger when I stopped fighting against the circumstances and against the hurtful nature of certain events but instead accepted the circumstances for the truth of what they are, focused on the person not the event (myself not what is happening to me), and as I began to let the threads become more of a catalyst of the words rather than just an Easter egg among them.

      Liked by 2 people

      • *chuckle* – I hadn’t realized how that poem or that picture would resonate. It wasn’t intentional, which speaks to the subject of what you wrote here.

        This, what and how you just commented, is why I showed you those lines in that poem you asked me about. There is something just so powerfully perfect about your writing. I have seen it first hand the way your voice grows in strength with each passing phrase in a single piece. Thank you so much for sharing this with us.

        The wooded mountains are definitely your friend.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. Although you are “receiving” bits of gold to weave in your tapestry from many of your followers, what you show us and give back in your feelings and writings touch so many of us. Whether you are further down the road or back a few paces, we seem to be on the same road. It is different than most roads and makes us feel alone. When in truth, there are so many of us walking that road in different shoes, it takes all of us to hold hands to walk without falling.
    Thanks for sharing your part of the tapestry. It is strength from within that all of us can see and feel. 🌹

    Liked by 3 people

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