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Re-membering our way Home through ancestral weaving.
- Sue Stranger
- Nov 24
- 4 min read
Weaving ourselves back together with Earth.
“When we gather, craft, walk and breathe with nature, we reawaken what has always lived within us.”
There comes a time in each of our lives when the old ways of being, the stories we inherited, the expectations we carried, the identities we tried to maintain, begin to loosen their grip.
We feel the edges fray. The shape of who we once were no longer quite fits, and yet the new form has not fully arrived.
This soft, uncertain threshold is what many cultures call the time between stories — a tender, necessary space where we are invited to listen more deeply than ever before.
And in this listening, something ancient stirs.
“Stillness is not emptiness, it is the place where the new story begins to whisper.”
The Land Holds Our Memories
Every stone, feather, fallen branch, storm-battered leaf, and weathered piece of bark carries a story, not just its own, but ours too. These natural treasures become clues, small trail-markers on the forest floor of our life.
They whisper:
Come home. Slow down. Remember.
“When we forget who we are, the land remembers for us.”
Perhaps this is why so many of us feel called to gather natural objects, to weave, to craft, to create with our hands.
It is not simply a pastime, it is a way of piecing ourselves back together.
A way of restoring the bones of who we are becoming.
A way of re-membering our human-nature through touch, texture, and presence.
Weaving as Re-membering
“Weaving is how we piece ourselves back together — strand by strand, story by story.”
When we weave, with grasses, raffia, reeds, wool, or any of Earth’s threads, we are doing more than creating an object. We are weaving fragments of ourselves back into wholeness.
The strands we hold are metaphors:
Old stories releasing.
New ones taking form.
The unseen space between the fibres becoming just as important as the fibres themselves.
“In weaving, we create not only baskets and forms, but new bones for who we are becoming.”
Weaving teaches patience, spaciousness, simplicity.
It teaches us to listen to what is older than our conditioning, older than any modern narrative that tells us we must be more, do more, become more.
In weaving, we begin to feel again what it means to belong.
The Stories Born From the Land
The stories that shape our truest selves have never come from the noise of society. They arise from within ourselves and the land. They live in riverbeds, in forests, in seas, in stones, within our own body.
When we walk, gather, sit, weave, or simply breathe with the Earth, we begin to hear them again. These stories remind us:
You are not separate.
You are not lost or broken.
You are part of a much older story.
Navigating the Space Between What Was and What Wants to Be
This moment in human history is a collective threshold.
Many of us are sensing that we cannot live by the narratives of our 'modern culture' any longer, stories of separation and individualisation, extraction, productivity at any cost, and identities built on external expectations.
Something more authentic, more grounded, more natural is calling.
And so we ask:
How do we find our new way of being in this modern world?
How do we honour our natural rhythm within the demands of modern life?
While there is no single answer, the guidance is always the same:
Begin with mindful awareness and presence.
Begin with the land.
Begin with the body.
Begin with what is real.
What fits us now is defined not by society’s expectations, but by the shape of our own inner truth — felt through the quiet intelligence of the senses, the breath, and the Earth beneath our feet.
“The home we seek is not elsewhere — it is here, in our breath, our bodies, and our belonging with Earth.”
Gathering the Breadcrumbs of Our Own Becoming
Maybe this is part of our natural cycle - a gathering phase.
We pick up clues, memories, sensations, threads of stories that echo something familiar.
Little by little, we reawaken a sense of belonging that feels older than our lifetime.
We gather what feels true.
We release what no longer nourishes.
We allow the new stories to emerge in their own time.
Listening to What is Older, Wiser, Deeper
There is a voice that lives beneath the noise and distractions of our modern world.
A voice much older and more profound than anything our over culture serves up to us.
It speaks in wind.
In soil.
In water.
In Earth-kin.
In stillness, presence and silence.
When we become still enough to listen — deeply listen — we begin to remember our way home to our own human-nature.
Combining Our Natural Way of Being With Modern Life
This is not about rejecting our modern world.
It is about living and being within it differently — more slowly, more consciously, more relationally.
Weaving nature into our days is possible when we honour small, meaningful practices:
* A mindful walk to greet the day
* Collecting a single natural object and listening to the story it carries
* Pausing to breathe with a tree or the sky
* Making tea or a meal as an honouring ritual, not a task
* Creating space for crafting, journaling, weaving, tending
* Saying “no” to what pulls us away from our natural rhythm
* Saying “yes” to what nourishes our whole being
These small acts are not merely self-care, they are soulful acts of remembering.
Acts of returning.
Acts of reclaiming a way of being that honours our human-nature and the living world.
Coming Home to our Human-Nature
If we trace the breadcrumbs, gather the stories, listen to the land, and craft a life from our own quiet truth, we will inevitably find our way home.
Because the home we are seeking isn’t elsewhere.
It is here, within our bodies, in our breath, in our relationship with Earth, and in the slow, sacred remembering of who we truly are.
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