Saturday’s Share: Weaving Life and Writing…

Lovely weaving by a lovely weaver at Eighteenth Century Day, Schuylerville, NY, August 2013.

 Welcome to Saturday’s Share – Reflections and impressions inspired by and celebrating images from daily life, to add a bit of sparkle to the weekend. Happy Saturday!

Weaving fascinates me. In the way some people get excited about sports cars or wine, or birdwatching – I’m turned on by the warp and the weft, the over and under and through, the patterns made and the solidity of the blending.

Oddly, I’ve spent relatively little of my life weaving with physical materials. I played with weaving fried grasses when I was a lonely young girl in a volatile rural home – I wanted to adapt thatching and weave wall mats, to make a house I could run away to.

I did the typical kid potholders with a plastic loop loom. I can, in a pinch, braid.

Weaving is one of those things on my “Someday” list – a list I’ve been thinking quite a bit about, lately.

But the truth is that I lead a weaving life already, only most of my weaving is invisible unless you know where to look for it.

I am a weaver of life, of emotions, and images, and ideas, and stories. These are my threads, each with their own color, texture, and character – their own life. That pattern is woven out, sometimes consciously, others as though it had a mind of its own, and often somewhere in between.

I am weaving a life of intention for myself and my family. It isn’t a perfect life, and we aren’t perfect people. But the threads we weave together – love, learning, feeling, fun, and some of those shadowy things that add depth and breadth and texture to the pattern. Because the kids have never gone to school, we’ve had long, uninterrupted years of togetherness, weaving to the rhythm of our family, with little imposed upon it.

Writing is something like that. The ideas and moments and bits of dialog that get caught in my mind, that pull other things to them as though they were the first snowflake in the storm. The themes that weave out in epic, convoluted fashion. The characters and stories that grow and change with me, that have been with me in some form since I was a teenager.

It makes me happy to see that, even if I don’t own a loom, I am still a weaver. I like looking at myself and my life that way.

Do you find yourself fascinated by something? What about it appeals to you? Have you tried it? Why, or why not? Do you understand what it is about it that speaks to you?

Saturdays are for sharing!


  1. One of my editors lives in an 18th century log cabin, and owns a loom! She also spins and makes her own soap. All of that is so fascinating to me – and her knowledge will come in very handy as my current time travel WIP takes place in that era. Come to think, we writers are all weavers of words, aren’t we? Such a neat analogy.

    • Jennette,

      You are so lucky! My husband and I dream of a cabin. And to have an editor with skills you need for your WIP is wonderful! I have been fascinated by these old skills ever since I was a little girl drying weeds under the front porch, and making sun-dried pottery from the clay of our yard.

      This may be the winter I give weaving a shot. I like to pick up new talents in the winter.

      I do love that analogy for writing, and for unschooling, which is a big untidy sweeping weaving of what we each know and want to learn. I was tickled to see that I am indeed already a weaver – just with a different set of looms! =)

  2. My mom’s a weaver, so I’ve always been attracted to this metaphor. It works on a political level too, bringing disparate strands together to create something both beautiful and powerful. I’ve been thinking that Nelson Mandela was a master weaver.

    • Gretchen,

      How lovely to have a weaver mom! I’d love to stand at her shoulder and just try not to touch!

      I’d never thought of it as a metaphor for politics, but I see what you’re saying, and I think Nelson Mandela was indeed a master of the art. Let us send hopes that what he wove will remain raveled, and be incorporated into a wider tapestry.

      By the way, your new photo is lovely – your smile is so bright and happy! =D

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