Living life, the day in and the day out monotonous bits…the gloriously good bits, however infrequent they may be…and even the devastatingly dark bits, with hopes that they are few and far between…they are all part of life, and we have to take all of those bits and weave them, like the threads of the fabric of our lives, as best we can into something that comforts us and we call it living…The first lines of  ‘Tapestry’ by Carole King…

“My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue
An everlasting vision of the ever changing view
A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold
A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold”

I know some people who have time and time again suffered; death, sadness, worry, losses that build and accumulate to a mountain of woe that seems insurmountable, yet they keep on going forward.  I know some people for whom life has been cushy, pampered, generous, easy as pie, yet they are miserable, frown filled, and unpleasant, day after day.  I know some people who had really terrible horrible very bad childhoods, yet raised really remarkable terrific wonderful children.  I know some people who had picture perfect fairy tale childhoods and sadly produced self-centered self-absorbed know-it-all assholes, and that’s never a pretty picture.  The older I grow the more I realize that it is our choice how to see the world and the life we are living as either full or empty, great or God awful…life as a tapestry that hugs us and brings us comfort like a flannel cloth to a swaddled infant, or like a heavy itchy blanket we can’t wait to throw off that suffocates us in the heat…

For most of us life is constantly changing, morphing into something else, something “other” over time, over and over…sometimes it is slow and sluggish and sometimes it moves  fast like Speedy Gonzales.  Some of us notice something changed or different, the moment something changes or is different, and some people hardly notice anything around them at all.  I can’t say, or write, or guess which one is better or correct, I suppose there is no such thing, but I know what is right for me, or at the very least, feels right for me…to try every day to see life as a wonderous woven magic tapestry, some of it glitters and shimmers and is filled with the finest of threads, and some of it is worn and ragged, some of it has moth holes and pulls,  but it is mine.

My tapestry…to bundle around myself when I feel chilled and to curl up with if I feel lonely, and to spread open as a welcoming mat when I crave friendship or companionship, or laughter and a full house and lots of dishes… It is the tapestry I used to comfort the crying infant  that came from my body, and to comfort the crying infants that later came from hers…it is the tapestry that has wiped my tears and the tapestry that has polished my awards…it is mine to pull tight and hold against me like a cocoon and claim as my own, “No room at the Inn” …or it is mine to open wide and wrap around another and share its embrace of tranquility, “please do come in, Welcome” …we can share our life with others and allow ourselves to be open to all the positives, or negatives that come with that exposure, the vulnerability that comes with opening up your tapestry, where there was just one, then there was two…or we can choose to be solitary and isolated, safe and protected from any of the forces or thoughts from others, but at what cost?  …but it seems to me such a colorful mix of textures and threads ought not be hidden, alone in a linen cupboard, but shared as needed and proudly displayed, and fully used lovingly over time, until it has served its purpose and we take our last breath and no longer need its warmth…