Gratitude from a Weaver of Words

My heart is full of gratitude for my readers. Thank you. And thank you to a message in nature from the master weaver itself.

To be a storyteller is to be a weaver of words and of worlds. A reminder nature sent to me this week more than once, as my inspiration sputtered and then stalled, headed for the salvage yard.

The message, crafted as no other could, was from the master weaver itself. Wordless, whimsical, and fleeting. And in case I missed it the first time, it sent it again. Because us humans at time require a blinking billboard when we are mired in the confines of our own thoughts.

A leaf danced, twirling round and around through the shafts of daylight peeking through the dense foliage of higher branches. The leaf dangled from a single, silken thread spun by a weaver who remained hidden, deep at work on their own creation. Not in plain view but placed strategically, for its intended audience.

From one weaver to another, whether the creation is viewed as survival or a work of art, a single solitary thread is all it takes for the impetus of inspiration to take root.

Stories are an artform, yes. They are tools of survival as well. They give us strength and support, carrying us on their shoulders as we meander through the footpath of our life. Mirrors to our soul, they give a voice to what our ears yearn to hear and a vision to what our eyes cannot see. To be seen and heard and accepted for who we are. To feel pride in not fitting a mold, to see value in our differences, and purpose in unconventional paths. The freedom to rage when we lay forgotten and the embracing of discernment to reclaim ourselves. To understand that every single one of us has meaning, worth, value.

What is survival if not that?

My heart is full of gratitude, thankful for my readers, my supporters, my family, and my friends. Eyes brimming with tears, I read messages this past week from women who said they felt seen. I cannot tell you the immense power of what hearing those words meant, to know that words woven together told a truth, their truth.

There is no greater gift.

Thank you, everyone. Whether you have read one article of mine or many, I appreciate you. For what you bring to the world, for your contributions and gifts. For giving me the gift of your time.

My hope is to continue to weave stories that speak to our spirit, our soul.

When finding the threads to weave a story proves elusive, and the drum beat of writer’s block begins its dance of doom, I will remember what the master weaver shared.

All you need is a single, silken thread and the eye to see what others have missed.

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For those who have not seen a leaf suspended from a single spider's thread, here is one I filmed last year.