Beautiful story that touched a chord with me in the art and practice of letting go. I once scraped a palm-full size of frozen sand from the beach on a full-moon lit New Year's night, bloodying my fingernails in the orocess. I brought it home in a plastic bag convinced it was imbued with some magic (aka my imagination). I placed it in a clay pot and kept it safe for at least three years; it was a talisman of sorts that accompanied me through a difficult time. One day it got knocked over and spilled to the ground. I was immediately upset but then something within me settled and something clicked. I gathered myself together, felt a bit of release, cleaned it up and threw it away. The spell was broken but the act of losing it also worked it's magic; it was time to release it and the time it represented.
My mom used to give me small strips of red ribbon from Rachel's grave in Israel to carry with me. I always had a piece of it in my wallet, protected by a bit of plastic wrap. I don't know what happened to the ribbon, when it was lost. Your red thread reminded me of it.
Beautiful story that touched a chord with me in the art and practice of letting go. I once scraped a palm-full size of frozen sand from the beach on a full-moon lit New Year's night, bloodying my fingernails in the orocess. I brought it home in a plastic bag convinced it was imbued with some magic (aka my imagination). I placed it in a clay pot and kept it safe for at least three years; it was a talisman of sorts that accompanied me through a difficult time. One day it got knocked over and spilled to the ground. I was immediately upset but then something within me settled and something clicked. I gathered myself together, felt a bit of release, cleaned it up and threw it away. The spell was broken but the act of losing it also worked it's magic; it was time to release it and the time it represented.
This is beautiful, Lisa. I reread the final paragraph three times and I will be thinking about this red thread and all it represents for s long time.
Lovely piece. Thanks for this.
My mom used to give me small strips of red ribbon from Rachel's grave in Israel to carry with me. I always had a piece of it in my wallet, protected by a bit of plastic wrap. I don't know what happened to the ribbon, when it was lost. Your red thread reminded me of it.
Just lovely as always, Lisa! Your words resonate with me! I hope you are well. I will write x
Wonderful! Thank You so much.
Beautiful, what a lovely read on a Sunday morning!
I love the meandering dream-like quality of this piece and the curiosity it sparks in me about the onward journeying of your red thread ❤
So beautiful.
I don’t know how your post arrived in my email inbox, but what a gift to me, who just turned 85 on Wednesday.
Would you be up for me sharing it on my column, Reflections at 85.