The fabric of space and time is enthralling for those who care enough to stop by. A pair of soulmates enmeshed in the fabric of time and space definitely would. It might occur to them that if time is one of the threads running through that fabric, surely love must be the needle that was used by the seamstress to hold it in place.
Knowledge might very well then be the eye of the needle because love needs understanding to pull the thread of time through all those amazing, intricate patterns across the fabric. Maybe when people “die”, the only things they take with them are love and knowledge. They can then continue weaving new patterns together on some other fabric – another occurrence in space and time.
As it does in a physical fabric woven on a loom, for every warp a weft yarn holds the fabric together. It just might be that when two threads start weaving the same pattern on a fabric they share, space and time wait for the warp weaver and the weft seamstress to come together as they must – time and again for the pattern to make sense.
It’s left to the skill and creativity of the couple working in tandem to introduce the colours – the passionate, brilliant reds contrasting with the virginal whites, the black moods offset by the smiling purples, the violet teardrops caught by the strong rusts, the musical mauves resting on the serene pinks.
Each couple has to dye the available threads of time with the joy, passion, sorrow, hope, love, despair, hate and every other emotion according to the patterns they want to weave. Some patterns of life they might inadvertently end up weaving anyway.
Every once in a while there comes along a couple who are completely in sync. These two don’t need to even stop and think about the patterns. The weaver chooses one colour for the warp and each time that shuttle moves in and out, the seamstress’s needle is waiting to hold it in place with exactly the right colour of weft. They move together in rhythm with some ancient music that runs through both their minds, the pattern begins to unfold and the world looks on in awe. Maybe you have had the good fortune to watch a couple like this.
Very often, the onlookers do not understand the pattern, but they do instinctively find themselves reacting to the harmony and the breathtaking beauty of the moments that they get to share.
There is a fair chance that the Creator is this master weaver who keeps watching and noticing people who make the most beautiful fabric together. Maybe this is the reason they are given new fabric and an opportunity to work together each time. Perhaps that’s the reason why some of us feel totally comfortable with people we have just met. Maybe we should listen to our subconscious a lot more than we manage to do. The best relationships are the ones that we are instinctively comfortable with all along.
Maybe every once in a while, in some life the master weaver splits up such couples so that they share some of their ken with other people – maybe the intent is that more people learn to weave beautiful fabric in their own unique patterns.
Maybe by and large, the best couples are kept together because they inspire other people to do better. Maybe other couples look at the fabric of life and loving that this couple has woven and know that it is possible.
Knowing that it is possible, amidst all the skepticism and pragmatism of pure logic, to find the right person to team up with is half the battle won, anyway. Maybe the things that you know intuitively are a lot more useful than the ones you derive logically. Maybe equitable measures of emotion and logic weave more wonderful life fabric.
It could be that every soulmate couple – the weaver and his seamstress sometimes weave smaller blankets for the loved ones around them. That way they can share their love and warmth and the brilliant colours of their lives together.
Maybe some of these people pull those blankets around them and feel blessed while some others wish for more practical things like wealth and shrug it off like a shroud. Maybe some tear it up in summer and yearn for it in winter, while some add bits of it to the already beautiful fabric they themselves are weaving together.
Maybe sometimes when the sun dips across the far horizon and the moon rises in the evening sky over the far blue mountains you can hear the clicking of the needles and shuttles and the swish of the fabric in the zephyr that swirls through the trees and stirs those waves on the beach. Maybe then all of you who stopped by, the seamstress and her weaver will all be blessed with a night of peace and rest and love!