Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.
Fire shadows on the wall,
A hand rises, falls, as steady as a heart beat,
Threading the strands of life.
This is the warp thread, this is the woof,
This is the hero-line, this is the fool.
Needle and scissors, scissors and pins,
Where one life ends, another begins.
There was a hero, once, from Ithica.
See how he travels the road.
Dust devils up under his bare feet.
The pattern in the dust is plainweave,
Is herringweave, is twill.
Needle and scissors, scissors and pins, Where one life ends, another begins.
So quickly the shuttle flies,
As fast as an arrow to the heart,
As fast as the poison of the asp,
As fast as the sword blade against the neck,
As fast as life, as fast as death.
Needle and scissors, scissors and pins, Where one life ends, another begins.
Did the silkworm come first,
Spinning its cocoon tapestry
So Clotho could unspin its cloak home
Into one of her own?
Did the Morai learn from a worm?
Needle and scissors, scissors and pins,
Where one life ends, another begins.
Or did she come upon flax as a girl
And, seduced by its bright blue flowers,
Blue as the branching veins beneath the fragile shield of the skin,
Crush it into fiber and thread?
Needle and scissors, scissors and pins,
Where one life ends, another begins.
Needle and scissors, scissors and pins,
Where one life ends, another begins.
Spindle and rod and tablet and thread,
The scissors close – and you are dead.
We were grabbing a bite of lunch at a small cafe, in a mall, right across from a booth that sold jewelry and where ears could be pierced for a fee. A mother approaches with a little girl of six or seven years old. The little girl is clearly stating that she doesn’t want her ears pierced, that’s she’s afraid of how much it will hurt, that she doesn’t like earrings much in the first place. Her protests, her clear ‘no’ is simply not heard. The mother and two other women, who work the booth, begin chatting and trying to engage the little girl in picking out a pair of earrings. She has to wear a particular kind when the piercing is first done but she could pick out a fun pair for later.
“I don’t want my ears pierced.”
“I don’t want any earrings.”
The three adults glance at each other conspiratorially and now the pressure really begins. She will look so nice, all the other girls she knows wear earrings, the pain isn’t bad.
She, the child, sees what’s coming and starts crying. As the adults up the volume so does she, she’s crying and emitting a low wail at the same time. “I DON’T WANT MY EARS PIERCED.”
Her mother leans down and speaks to her, quietly but strongly, the only words we could hear were ‘… embarrassing me.’
We heard, then, two small screams, when the ears were pierced.
Little children learn early and often that ‘no doesn’t mean no.’
Little children learn early that no one will stand with them, even the two old men looking horrified at the events from the cafeteria.
Little girls learn early and often that their will is not their own.
No means no, yeah, right.
Most often, for kids and others without power, ”no means force.”
This is important. It doesn’t just apply to little girls and other children, though it often begins there.
For the marginalized, our “no’s” are discounted as frivolous protests, rebelliousness, or anger issues, or we don’t know what we’re talking about, or we don’t understand what’s happening.
