The coyotes rolled into town in the previous essay: spoon lickers, sandwich eaters, general usurpers; picnic ruiners. I said, well, it’s pretty much inevitable. In fact you should remember that it’s important to have coyotes in the wild and in life.
As I considered what to write for my next essay it occurred to me that I was leaving out the aftermath of a coyote visit. It’s easy to state the obvious; that sometimes it doesn’t work out the way you thought it would. But how do you move forward when everything is ruined? Don’t you want to fix the problem? Do you do that as a singular person, or as a community? Where does responsibility lie?
I realize I bit off a huge portion of cucumber sandwich with my last essay, and I’m wondering if there are easy answers to the questions scattered like ruined food from our mix up with the coyotes. It’s easy to become overwhelmed, but I’ll share my experience with the unexpected to help frame situations like these.
When I was a small girl, before I went to sleep at night I prayed ,“Please make me as wise as King Solomon.” (For those of you who didn’t grow up in a Christian household, King Solomon is an Old Testament king who is commonly thought to have been the wisest man who ever lived.) It didn’t occur to me until much later that very few of my fellow 7 year olds were praying for supreme wisdom. Had I known that wisdom is acquired through careful reflection on difficult experiences, I probably would’ve prayed for a pony instead. Joking aside, most of my understanding for coping with life comes from impactful lessons often learned after the metaphorical coyote pack rolled up on my picnic. I’ve come to see these situations as opportunities rather than catastrophes, usually after the fact, because let me tell you from first hand experience with betrayal, abandonment, poverty, abuse, depression and self-harm these traumas have the capacity to ruin anyones picnic. Bringing them to attention here is not meant to glorify victimization or self-pity, but instead they are meant to acknowledge the themes that run through the entirety of human history. I’m sure you can relate to many of these misfortunes. Coyotes abound, and yet we keep making picnics.
When going through trauma that we don’t understand, it’s easy to place blame and become consumed with anger and resentment. Speaking from past experience, I’ve acted enough from a place of wounded-ness that I now understand it only perpetuates harm on the people around me, and I become a frothing maniac in the process. After I noticed this pattern in myself, I understood more of what a great teacher like Gandhi was sharing when he said, “be the change you want to see in the world”. Yes, I know this phrase is used ad nauseam by all sorts of political movements, but I’ve often wondered if the folks wearing Gandhi tee-shirts actually take the time to courageously embody the wisdom they are displaying. If you want to see more love, be more loving. This was a big lesson for me and it unravels a lot of mis-truths about enforcing the change I want to see, and instead highlights becoming the change I want to see. The latter is much more difficult, but change literally begins internally. If we are not aware of ourselves and our own faults, we will act from an unconscious place and only perpetuate suffering, our own included. This is what the coyotes have taught me.
One of the reasons I find the trickster archetype so important is that they are bursting with uncertainty and risk. Tricksters switch sides, they move backward when you want them to go forward, and they throw you into risk-filled situations where you are forced to grow. We, as craftspeople, grapple with risk and uncertainty as a life practice. It is through applying what I’ve learned by navigating trauma and risk as a person that I can more easily understand myself, others, and the importance of handcraft on a personal level.
A basket weaver I greatly admire, Gabriel Frey, said in a recent interview on the Podcast:
“...the intentionality of how each step is done creates the strength of the material in the end.”
He was speaking about the process of weaving black ash baskets the way his grandfather’s had done for thousands of years as the people of the Dawnland; the Wabanaki.
He wisely identifies all processes leading up to weaving as being as important as the basket itself, because if the correct intention is missing in any of the components, the reciprocal structure of the basket may fail. I think Gabriel summed it up well. The process of each step creates the strength of the material in the end. In life, I think we are the material, and the intention of choosing growth despite risk and uncertainty is what handcraft and living have in common. So the way in which you respond to the material of your life will greatly impact the result as you weave it together. The coyotes will always be there. They are part of the process. You may struggle with questioning whether or not they show up to the next picnic or they may distract you as you try to learn to weave a new basket, but thats why we are here; to learn and grow. We are here to put intention into the process. We are here to craft a life.
This post has been on my mind for the past couple of days. I also used to pray for wisdom as a kid, as if it was something that could just be handed to me in a tightly sealed Mason jar, ready to dip into when I wanted it on my toast in the morning.
I think it's really fruitful to connect the trickster archetype with the development of wisdom. I was thinking about this last night while I was knitting a hat, using much smaller needles and yarn than I'm used to. The trickster in my head kept purling where I was supposed to be knitting or knitting where I was supposed to be purling. I wouldn't see it until a few rows later. I've already unraveled and restarted this hat about 7 times, so I wanted to see if I could figure out how to fix it without starting over. With some trial and practice I came up with a way that works (it's probably not the 'right' way). And I learned a lot about how a knit fabric holds together in the process. Your post was a helpful reminder, as I worked through this tiny example, of how necessary tricksters are for growth.
Great essay.