a tangled skein
that's what we're in
It’s been a long minute since I last popped into your inbox. I apologize for the “radio silence” but there’s been so much going on and going down that I’ve struggled to know where to begin, which thread to pull first. “Here’s one I prepared earlier”, as they say on cooking shows. Here’s a post that I started earlier that will help me re-launch the conversation and begin the catch-up…
I love the word skein. It sounds like it’s going to take off, skate into the distance, but instead halts up short to be bound and wound, like the wool it might be made of. And I love that we don’t know its origin.
skein: "quantity of thread wound on a reel, fixed quantity of yarn doubled over and over and knotted," early 14c., skaine, from Old French escaigne, escagne (mid-14c., Modern French écagne), a word of uncertain origin. Compare Medieval Latin scagna "a skein," Irish sgainne "a skein, clue."
I’ll opt for the Irish roots and the clue left in that meaning, as clue itself. Which of course leads me to following the yarn trail to see where the clue of the word clue takes us:
"anything that guides or directs in an intricate case," 1590s, a special use of a revised spelling of clew "a ball of thread or yarn" (q.v.). The word, which is native Germanic, in Middle English was clewe, also cleue;
The sense shift is originally in reference to the clew of thread given by Ariadne to Theseus to use as a guide out of the Labyrinth in Greek mythology. The purely figurative sense of "that which points the way," without regard to labyrinths, is from 1620s. As something which a bewildered person does not have, by 1948.
Thus hardy Theseus, with intrepid Feet,
Travers'd the dang'rous Labyrinth of Crete;
But still the wandring Passes forc'd his Stay,
Till Ariadne's Clue unwinds the Way”
And this clue leads us to the master of clues, Sherlock Holmes. Somewhere in my brain’s database I must have stowed away the phrase “tangled skein” from reading all of Conan Doyle’s works as a kid, as it shows itself in The Hound of the Baskervilles and is the title of a book about Holmes and Watson by David Stuart Davies.
Why am I getting all tangled up here with this phrase? Because someone asked me how I find Brisbane and, without thinking, I said, “like a tangled skein”. With its looping river, myriad bridges, roads, overpasses, tunnels, and paths I would still be sitting right where I was first plopped down were it not for our modern mapping systems. Even then, I’ll be following Maps, cycling along a bike path and the path will suddenly end on a manic motorway, maddening the motorists into yelling at me for being in their harried way.
Literally, though, the green-painted bike path just stops and sometimes there’s even a not-so-helpful sign that says something like ‘end of the road’. If I’m lucky I’ll look around and spy the place where this particular bike-friendly path picks up again. Then it’s just a matter of making my way there without inciting more road rage.
Is it everywhere — this entitlement that folks in cars have? Every time I’ve been yelled at, or seen someone else being yelled at, it’s been a white male in a huge fossil-fueled vehicle. Never an Asian woman, or someone in an EV. Just sayin.
How dare someone stand in their way and slow down their progress. I’m guessing those doing the yelling have not tried riding in this city themselves. The illusory power that a petrol-powered vehicle bestows bears too great a pull.
It requires more awareness and skill to cycle. The precarious nature of one’s flesh and bones, liable to collide with macadam or man in a ute (as has happened for me recently and is part of my absence here), means any change could spell disaster.
Which makes me realize they’re scared. These guys in their big tough vehicles are scared of the mortality I remind them of. I could be hurt or killed by their power, and the only way they have to warn me is with their righteous anger. At least that’s the story I’m sticking with for now.
Perhaps the anger of the driver is fueled by caffeine, but how could that be when espresso shots here in Oz are based on the size of the cup, i.e. single for a small. I guess I should be glad they’re not getting any more fuel for their angry ire than necessary.
Though I do find it annoying that I have to ask for an extra shot in my small coffee. I’m coming from NZ where all barista drinks are double shots, unless you specifically ask for single, in which case you might be judged for not being able to handle your coffee. My preference is a bit of milk in my coffee instead of a bit of coffee in my milk.
I digress. But then this is a tangled skein so any thread is bound to be the same thread, just angled in from some other side. Yarn on a spool that’s been unspun, yet is still bunched up together — that’s a tangled skein. Untangling such a mess seems impossible, so it’s very tempting to cut into it. This post from ceremony time talks further about the skills required, and the lessons learned, from untangling threads...
Here we all are, wrapped up together. One species, one planet, one thread of life. Yet our search for identity blinds us to our unity.
Yarning is a thing here — a term used by Indigenous folk/First Nations in Australia. It sounds similar to the talking circles I’ve been blessed to be part of, though I have yet to take part in an official yarn on this land. I’ll leave you with these few minutes of Tyson Yunkaporta, author of Sand Talk, sharing the meaning of yarning as collective sense-making:
Very gratefully, I came out of the collision relatively unscathed. And this post was written before it even happened. Now that we’re yarning again, I look forward to catching up on all the things. In the meantime, I wish you ease in this week’s shift out of Mercury Retrograde and into direct movement once more. Keep your wits and your patience about you. It’s a bit like everyone’s been idling their vehicles in reverse or park for 3 weeks, mind on the device or navel gazing instead of on the road and the tangled skein around them. Most of the snafus I have encountered in Mercury Retrogrades have come in this transition when the light turns green and everyone springs into action. Being patient and compassionate requires that you—
