I learned how to macrame in my early 20’s at one of the lowest points in my life.
I was working full time to earn my student college grant money and had a full time course load majoring in Journalism. I lived in a one room apartment crawling with mice that would run over me while I slept.
When I reached my breaking point, a college professor helped me admit myself to a facility for help.
For three days I lived with people of all ages and situations who needed support. There was someone professional to talk to. I even made a friend, who was also a college student where I went to school. We vowed to never tell anyone we were ever there.
On the second day we were taught how to macrame plant hangers as a therapy project. I loved it. I rolled out rope from one end of the room to the other end and made my first piece.
It was a much needed thrilling sense of accomplishment.
A Long Rope To New Life
On my third day I was discharged. I found a group of fellow film and writing students to share a house with and although there were hard years ahead, I had the courage to keep going. I wasn’t alone anymore.
It would be 10 years before I returned to macrame when my children were young and another 10 years before I took it back up and stayed with it.
Today, when I weave rope, I usually just listen to what Spirit wants to create. It’s a beautiful gift.