I was messaging with a friend today. We were talking about many things including friends we had lost in 2020. And she made the comment that metaphysics taught her about life being similar to a giant cobweb. She said there is no such thing as coincidence in her opinion; everything and everyone are connected.
Threads.
My friend is Italian or at least half Italian like me. I really am not sure which it is. But she laughed and said that Italians always look to find a thread. I agree with her — we do look to find the thread, it’s sort of inherent in our DNA. A thread is a connection. A connection brings us together as humans.
There are all of these threads the tie us together. How we meet people and become friends. Who we meet them through. Look at our communities. There are threads everywhere which tie us together. Schools, church, neighborhoods, volunteer work. Life in general.
In the Chinese culture, a red thread is believed to connect us all together. Think of it as a beautiful red ribbon. It weaves in and out, throughout our lives, throughout our communities.
If you look at Kabbalistic traditions, read is a symbol of courage, bravery, and protection against what people referred to as the “evil eye.” The whole “evil eye“ of it all is actually a symbol of someone you feel who looks at you with negative energy and jealousy. And that’s not what I’m talking about here.
If you are speaking specifically about wearing a red thread, it can be that these red threads or cords are supposed to bring luck and offer protection but also serve as a reminder of the vows if Buddhist vows were taken.
However the ancient Chinese legend to which my friend alluded, the red thread of fate, is this invisible thread that ties us all together, as in all of us whose lives will intertwine at some point. The Chinese god of marriage, Yue Lao, looks over this.
In Christianity I am told the red thread symbolizes redemption. I think in essence, the tradition of a red thread crosses over many cultures. And today things get blended tradition-wise.
I don’t wear a red thread, but I know people who do and who have. When I’m talking about this thread today I am visualizing the threads that softly twirl around us joining us together at different parts of our life or throughout our lives. More simply put, I’m speaking about the threads that tie us together and even draw us together.
There is that other old adage of people enter your life for a reason, a season, or for life. Personally I have found it difficult at times mourning the loss of people who are only around for a reason or a season and I thought they would be around for the entirety of our lives. However, even when people aren’t in your life anymore sometimes there are still these ties, these connections. Sometimes not. It really just depends how life happens.
I don’t ever pretend to have all the answers. And I certainly don’t exist on a mystical plane. I just think about these things because I think you have to sometimes. As human beings we are tied together. Our paths cross. We impact each others lives. That’s why I think the people in this country need to get back to the business of living and put aside the business of ugly politics and in essence, worshiping false political prophets.
Life is short. Value it. Value each other.
Thanks for stopping by.
Your comments are so true…in fact, I am reading a book about a Polish prisoner that was tortured by the Nazis doctors at Ravensbruck. Her father manages to send her red threads through the mail to acknowledge he received her secret messages. On Thanksgiving morning I dreamed of a friend I had lost touch with. In the dream we were on a panel to elect a new Dalai Llama, a woman. We wanted to call her the Dalia Mama!! More woman power. That afternoon I got a phone call from my friend who was in the dream, out of the blue, so to speak. We reminisced back to the 60’s and I could not remember how we met for the first time. She said, “It was Thanksgiving Day, Atlanta, GA 1960 you and your husband came for dinner. ,,,and she is the one in the early stages of dementia. One never knows where the pieces of thread will unwind.