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The patterns painted and strips cut, I could finally execute my vision of weaving the six patterns together. But then it all went to shit. The beautiful story in my mind of each person, each pattern overlapping and weaving seamlessly with one another crashed. Nothing mixed and everything clashed. It felt chaotic and noisy. There wasn’t enough negative space or breathing room, especially given some of the bold personalities, I mean, patterns. I sat back and studied it. And then some more. I got out my journal, asking what it needed, why it wasn’t working? Why couldn’t I make this pattern fit better with that? Could I make yet another attempt? What could I fix to turn this into something beautiful in the end, something that made sense? And then it hit. The need to orchestrate everyone’s patterns… Do I even have that kind of power? Or responsibility? Is it within my control? The only pattern I have control over is my own. How I choose to weave with the others. I walked over to the weaving, and gently removed my family’s patterns from the warp. I kept my own.
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