There’s a poem that’s been running through my mind for a while. It deeply resonated as soon as I discovered it in the poet William Stafford’s collected works, many years ago; I immediately bookmarked the page.
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you can do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
“The Way It Is,” by William Stafford (1914 – 1993)
What does these words mean to you? Some have offered similar opportunities for reflection.
As I read these words aloud again and again, I feel gently pulled by the unfolding, unyielding nature of time, and by the passions I’ve been too timidly cultivating for many years of my life.
“While you hold it you can’t get lost.” What guides, steadies, or grounds you?