Fabric

"...cloth, typically produced by weaving or knitting textile fibres."

One of my favourite possessions is from a slum in Kolkata, India. It's a blanket. Actually, it's a baby blanket  because I didn't unfold it before purchasing and so it's just a little bit too small to use in any practical situation. When I bought it, there was lots of dust on it and when I brought it home, it retained a little of its "India" smell.

It's a beautiful piece of fabric but my love for it is mostly found in the story behind the making. It was made by a group of women who have been given work where before they had none. They're making money for their families because most of their husbands spend their income on alcohol and cigarettes. They're in poverty because there's nothing they can do and their voices are powerless. But this project is giving them hope and it's giving them skills. And that's why I love that blanket, even though it clashes with most of my other textiles. 

Following from last week's theme, and I'm touching on that often-used phrase, "Fabric of our lives". It's a beautiful picture that we've got threads which criss-cross over one another, to make a unique 'fabric' that can't be replicated. No one else has a life like ours. We're all unique and our experiences are distinctive. 

Often the fabric can seem less than beautiful - when one of our threads might fray or become damaged in some way. Yet the interwoven nature of the fabric means that it holds together - it would take an incredibly long time to separate those threads. 

The metaphor I'm using is one that many have used before me, but this evening it's especially poignant as I feel I've reached a stage where many of my 'threads' are being tied together. This week we move out of our current house and my three housemates are moving away. This week we finish our Internship with a Debrief, and we travel along our separate journeys. It's especially strange because I'm not actually going anywhere, but the people around me are. 

And that's what the fabric of our lives is made from. Others around us, who add something unique and distinctive. A journey on our own would be less colourful without the people around us who teach new skills and phrases and stories and jokes. Sometimes they're only a short thread in the fabric, and other times they're a recurring pattern. But they make it unique.

I'm aware that my poetry is sounding a little too abstract and flowery, so I'll conclude another way. The past ten months have been a great chapter, but I'm so indebted to the people who have made it that way. I'm so thankful that I get to keep seeing lots of these people, but equally sad that some will be less present in my life than before. To you guys, thanks for being so inspirational.

However, I'm so aware that I've said goodbyes before and some of those threads just don't go away! That's nice to know and I'm so, so grateful.

"Fabric: The essential structure of anything."