When I first started weaving, I did a great deal of un-weaving and even discarding of projects. I felt a bit ashamed when I discovered that something wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped. As my technical ability has improved and I’ve come to trust my creative instincts, I still rip things out that don’t satisfy me either technically or artistically. But now I accept that as part of the process — and as part of the creative life.
At the same time, I’ve become intrigued by how we create and sometimes edit the narratives that are woven into the tapestries of our lives. I think storytelling is part of being human. When it’s conscious, it can help create a rich tapestry of life; when it’s unconscious, it holds us back and can create conflict.
The unconscious stories are ones we tell ourselves to explain our lives and our choices, to justify our feelings or behaviour. In her book Rising Strong, Brene Brown calls these “conspiracy theories” because they're often “based on limited real and imagined data and blended into a coherently satisfying version of reality.” But that term is, at least these days, all too often used as an insult. In reality, there are sometimes threads of truth in that kind of stories. In fact, sometimes they’re actually grounded in truth, which becomes apparent much later.
At any rate, I often call this type of unconscious story “fairy tales” in the sense that one dictionary defines the term as “a fictitious, highly fanciful story or explanation.” Sometimes these stories can hurt others or damage relationships, especially when we don’t keep them to ourselves or when we use them simplistically to blame others for how we feel about ourselves or what we’ve done or said. And sometimes, we can use these stories to weave a completely new identity that’s completely inauthentic to our heritage or reality (as in cultural appropriation). After all, another way we think of fairy tales is having an attractive, beautiful, or otherwise special quality. And if we aren’t happy with who we are or where we came from seems not glamorous enough or unsuited to our chosen career, why not just weave a new one! I’ve heard about, and even experienced, people who completely reinvent themselves and their past lives.
But, as Brown points out, these tales that we weave and re-weave for ourselves can also be a way to work through our feelings, to identify what’s valid and separate that from negative judgments and other things that can hold us back as we grow. As we become aware of our inner storyteller, we can learn to question the narratives, take responsibility for our actions, and eventually use the stories to overcome fear-based self-protection and feel better about ourselves.
“Whether you are a weaver of words, threads, or yarns, or whether your story is woven through dreamwork, collage art, in sacred circle, or through some other form of art, these practices tie our story with textures and symbols that bring colour, dimension and depth to our lives. If weaving and spinning are sacraments, then calling ourselves artists is our solemn oath; picking up the needle, the pen or the spindle, our sacred gesture; and finishing a project, our holy offering.” ~Kristen Roderick
Into my art I’ve woven threads of sorrow and joy, restlessness and contentment, resentment and gratitude. Sometimes weaving – like life – is simple and other times it’s complicated. But thinking of life as a tapestry and weaving as a storytelling process allows me to follow where each thread leads, occasionally un- and re-weaving until I'm comfortable that I've done the best I can with my work and my life. What stories do you tell yourself?