Yesterday, I became a basket weaver!
For the last few years, basket weaving has lived vividly in my imagination. After choosing it as the central healing metaphor for The Mother Ache, I read about its history and studied the stages of making a basket. Those stages became the healing structure at the heart of the book.
Yesterday, with Allie and a circle of women, I finally learned to weave a pine-needle basket with my own hands.
To my delight, the metaphor held.
The ponderosa pine needles had been gathered from Allie’s land in the mountains, then sorted and soaked. We wove the base, worked our way up the sides, and bound the rim. Loose needles slowly became a tiny but sturdy vessel of my own making.
A woven vessel is both practical and holy. It can carry food, seeds, medicine, sacred objects, stories, and offerings. Yesterday, it carried years of reading and writing into my hands.
My little basket is drying now. Once it has settled, I will trim the loose ends and rub it with beeswax. I feel so grateful to Allie, to the women weaving beside me, and to the knowledge that continues to travel from the land, through our hands, and from one woman to another.
At this time of year, as many people honor their dead, I am especially remembering my grandmothers. The veil feels thin, and the women in my maternal lineage feel close. They live within the cells of my body, in my heart, my memories, and my creativity.
Healing the mother ache asks us to bring honesty, empathy, and compassion to the women whose lives made our own possible.
Today I am especially grateful for my grandmothers, Effie and Pauline.
