When Things Fall Apart
on a story that helps me begin again
Each month I host a Zoom gathering for my Patreon members. We started this during the pandemic, and at that time we met weekly, a way to be in community and talk about anything that was important to us, with the exception of religion and politics. Usually our conversations lean toward art, but we also touch on more personal things and even venture into philosophy and poetry; no matter where the topics roam, it has always been a delightful way to spend a couple of hours with friends. Over these years we’ve had some folks come and go, but there has always been a core family of people that show up, and when I say family, that is truly how it feels. When one of us is missing, it is noticed and felt.
We gathered yesterday, maybe a dozen or so of us regulars. I always look forward to what others have to share and often I lead us in with a few things of my own. This time it was a story, read from the book “The Enchanted Life” by Sharon Blackie. The story is called When Things Fall Apart, which Blackie now attributes to a retelling of Michael Meade’s story in his book The World Within the World. In her book, it is unattributed. I have heard Meade credit his retelling as an adaption of the Lakota creation myth of the Old Woman of the World. In Blackie’s more Celtic reimagining, the Old Woman of the World sits by her fire, endlessly weaving the fabric of existence. Her work is slow and meticulous, and we learn it is intended as the most beautiful weaving ever to be made. In my imagination, her weaving contains all the patterns of life—light and dark, the rainbow spectrum of colours, creation and destruction, joy and sorrow. She is the weaver of the world’s stories, and her weaving sustains the balance of life.
One day, while the Old Woman leaves her weaving and goes to stir her great cauldron of stew that includes every herb and every plant that grows on the earth. The Trickster Crow, who lives in the rafters of her cave eternally waiting for the rare moments when she leaves her loom unattended, swoops down, mischievous and disruptive, and begins to pick at her weaving, pulling at the threads and undoing all of her hard work leaving it a chaotic pile of threads on the floor. He flies back up to his perch just as the Old Woman returns. She is momentarily bereft seeing her beautiful work in a tangled mess, however she is not angry. She is saddened, and through eyes damp with tears she suddenly sees the beautiful glint of an emerald green thread, picks it up, and begins to weave again. With patience and care, she begins to weave something entirely new out of the destruction left by Crow. The patterns in her new weaving are different, transformed by the disruptions, yet still beautiful and necessary to her very existence. The Old Woman doesn’t mourn the loss of what was—she understands that destruction is part of creation, that life and death, order and chaos, are always interwoven. She carries on, creating her beautiful cloth, until the next time the stew needs stirring and the Trickster Crow swoops down once again.
Every time I read this story, which is at least a dozen times per year, I cry. Even yesterday while reading it aloud, I cried. I feel this story with every cell in my body and every mystery in my soul. For me it is the story of resilience, much like I wrote about last week. The Old Woman of the World embodies wisdom and acceptance, a view of the long expanse of time and not just the overwhelm of a set back. She shows me that when things fall apart, they open space for something new and possibly even better, to emerge. The Trickster Crow, on the other hand, represents chaos, disruption and unpredictability, which are the essential forces of transformation. Each are essential to the dance between creation and destruction and creation, yet again. This is the cycle of creativity, the warp and weft of life itself. Even when things fall apart, we can find beauty and purpose and simply begin again. Painful? Yes. Sometimes very difficult to do? Indeed. And yet, we can and we must.
Begin again. Work toward something. It is far more powerful than hope.
How do you handle disappointment? What can you learn from this deeply inspiring story? How can it help your spirit be a bit more buoyant in the midst of tougher times? I would love to hear your stories.
Here is a link to hear Sharon Blackie reading her story, When Things Fall Apart.
One of my most favorite stories... I understand it in my bones. I also know that I have both the old weaver AND the Trickster in me. At times this disrupter will change the path I am on in mid stride with no warning and I have learned to step lightly and trust in myself.
First off, the first spider web photo is magnificent, as are all the others that follow. They weave, (no pun intended) right into your beautiful writing. I can't wait to read this story. Thank you for a wonderful Sunday morning treat honey.