Sometimes in our lives events happen that are beyond our control. Some would call this a conflict of free will versus predestination. Some things that are terrible are just "fated" to happen. Our choices are limited to a set number and type according to our natures and to go against the very essence of one's nature is generally an impossibility. This can begin to seem like fate according to the Greek concept, where everything is predestined: a life spun, measured out, and finally cut by elusive demigods, where we are only players acting according to a script.
But I believe in free will and choice, however limited our choices are. Sometimes the thread of our lives becomes so knotted, so entangled with a complication that we can't untangle the intricate loops. These are, generally, what people call "the hard times." The times when, no matter what we do, we can't manage to find where the knotted flaw begins or ends. We can't work through an issue because we are struggling to find its beginning, or grasping to predict a future where the end of the tangle occurs.
For the past few months I've had one of these tangles in my own life. It came about because of choices I made, that I feel I couldn't have made any other way and still be true to the nature of who I am. There were a set number and type of choices available to me that didn't go against my grain. All the choices that were genuine possibilities were bad. Therefore, my choices were not good ones.
It was never a choice for me not to let C--- into my life. I want to protect people who seem to be in trouble, and she was. With her startling blue eyes, her way of crying silently and dipping her head so no one has to see. The way her hands unconsciously move to her hair, brushing it away from her face, but when she cries she lets the same hair hang across her face to hide her tears. She reminded me too much of myself. I wanted to help. So in my initial choice, I chose to help. It was the only option that didn't violate my nature. From there, the thread of my life became so entangled I couldn't find the beginning, or the end, of the flaw.
For a while I've been running in circles, trying to figure that out. Where did the flaw begin? What was its source? And since removing C--- from my life, I've been trying to figure out where the flaw stops, trying to read the future where the thread emerges from the knot, whole and straight, ready to be woven.
Last night I began to realize something. I can't untangle that flaw. Just like when I crochet, pulling the straight yarn from the skein to unravel it, and a tangle emerges from the seemingly perfect whole, I had to spend awhile trying to untangle the flaw. Most of the time I can untangle those imperfections. I can find the beginning, and end, which saves me from having to cut the yarn. Because cutting the yarn means cutting out the tangled part and tying a permanent knot, and then figuring out a way to weave the ends into the pattern of the whole: a baby blanket in a zig-zag pattern, a kind of tapestry.
Sometimes in our lives, too, we can't untangle that portion of the thread. It's flawed, and no matter how much we keep trying to find the beginning and end, we can't. We have to just cut it out, Cut the knotted portion of thread out of the strand and knot the two different pieces together. Then throw the flawed portion away. Let it go. Accept that our lives will forever have a knot holding the strand together, but appreciate the perfection of the thread on either side, appreciate the pattern emerging into a whole. Find a way to incorporate the loose ends into the pattern. Integrate them into the design so they aren't noticeable anymore.
I've made enough baby blankets to know that, if you're careful, those loose ends are very hard to find, once they're woven in.
Like the flawed and tangled portion of yarn, too knotted to untie, I have to cut C--- from my life completely. It doesn't matter anymore who was right or wrong, who reacted badly and who was the model of perfection. I suspect all the parties involved contributed to the tangle. But it doesn't matter. It's done. And like the flawed yarn, I have to let it go. I have to accept that portion of the thread is too tangled to be picked apart, cut it out, and leave it be.
I have to accept the knot that's left, and incorporate the loose ends into the pattern. I have to learn to appreciate the pattern emerging in my own life, and dismiss the tangle that's been excised. I'm sure I will still think of C--- from time to time, that's the knot she left behind. But she's gone, and on either side of the knot is the perfect, shining strand just waiting to be woven into something beautiful.
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