Deep inside my heart there’s a barrel in which every trauma, drama, grief and scary moment of my life is stored. For many years I was totally unaware that it even existed, but I must have used a lot of energy keeping the lid on so tightly.
At discovery the barrel was crammed with scary dense dark wool, but over the years it has been worked on and spun into colourful yarn; every string telling a story.
Every now and then life will snag one of the loose ends poking out and I’ll look at it and say “Oh right, there you are, I remember you”.
Sometimes there’s nothing more to it, other times other strings come attached and I’ll feel, wonder, figure it out and move on.
I find the human psyche fascinating; that it can take care of what is too painful and return it when you’re able to deal with it; sometimes when you’re not all that ready.
I have just started working on one of the longer pieces, hoping that it will roll nicely into a ball sometime in the future. For me making a tangible barrel is a part of the process.
One day it will all be neatly knitted into the colourful piece that is my life, and I wouldn’t be me without each and every stitch; light, dark, plain and fuzzy.