The world unravels always

I read these words just yesterday from American writer Parker J. Palmer. Today they feel true.

Keep on weaving, Palmer says. We will.

November 22

On this day long years ago, our promising

young president was killed. He was far too young

to die and I far too young to watch my world unravel

as it did. I grieved my loss, our loss, then started

to reweave — a work, a life, a world — not knowing

then what I know now: the world unravels always,

and it must be rewoven time and time again.

 

You must keep collecting threads — threads of meaning,

threads of hope, threads of purpose, energy and will —

along with all the knowledge, skill that every weaver needs.

You must keep on weaving — stopping sometimes only

to repair your broken loom — weave a cloak of warmth

and light against the dark and cold, a cloak in which

to wrap whoever comes to you in need — the world

with all its suffering, those near at hand, yourself.

 

And, if you are lucky, you will find along the way

the thread with which you can reweave your own

tattered life, the thread that more than any other

laces us with warmth and light, making both the

weaver and the weaving true — the red thread

they call Love, the thread you hold, then

hand along, saying to another, “You.”

Parker J. Palmer

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