Chaos has been the daily dish of anguish for months now. Personal, family, national and global. I don’t have the eloquent words of a poet to adequately convey the pain, rage or fear felt by so many like me. My own struggle has been to find a way forward without looking away, giving in, or giving up.
I knew that the path had to involve leaning into my own cherished values and using my skills, however modest they may be, to keep building something positive in the midst of the daily destruction. But my own band width has shrunk. Knowing “what I can do” that will made a difference seems impossible some days.
In early April, I joined together with other New Mexico-based members of the WARP (Weave a Real Peace) international textile arts organization to host a small 3-day event. We gathered at the new Albuquerque community fiber arts hub, Fiber Arts on 4th, founded by WARP member Cael Chappell. (Cael is also the founder of the fair trade company Baskets of Africa, which inspired me to start HoonArts over 10 years ago. He’s been my business mentor and friend from the very first days.)
We told the stories of the products we sell, and, more importantly, the culture and people behind the products, representing connections between and among artists from three continents–North America, Africa and Asia. We felt our own wounds bathed in the balm of visitors who also counted human dignity, cultural respect, and the value of international collaboration among their values. We shared the mission of WARP:
WARP is a catalyst for improving the quality of life of textile artisans worldwide. We are an inclusive global network of individuals and organizations who value the social, cultural, historic, artistic, and economic importance of textile arts.
And then we went our separate ways. Back to the daily challenge of trying to keep going and not let ourselves be sucked into despair.
But a few days ago, I received an email from one of my customers at that little WARP event that reminded me why it’s worth it to keep trying, despite the daily challenges. Sue Jensen had purchased some of my hand-spun, hand-dyed mohair yarn from Tajikistan–yarn that never sold really well in Albuquerque because it’s so thick and heavy in our sunny climate.
She sent me a picture of the pillow she wove, with a mixture of the Tajik mohair yarn and her own handspun yarn. And she shared the poem she wrote about the experience. And in doing so, she provided a spark that reminded me why I do what I do. That it’s not in vain. And that we are surrounded by other people who treasure the same values, and are working to keep that spirit alive in our own unique ways.
Sue generously gave me permission to share her work with you. I hope it rekindles in you the same spark of hope and determination that it gave me.
PS If you're inspired to want to try your own hand at using our hand spun mohair yarn, I have several bundles left of the light green variety, dyed with natural henna, all deeply discounted below my cost to less $10 per bundle. (All the other colors sold out at the WARP event.) To purchase a piece of Tajikistan, head to this link.
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