But it seemed like turning off the light, turned my mind on. I opened my eyes and noticed the full moon grinning through the bedroom window; casting its hollow light in the room. I thought about the moon and all it's seen and wondered at its ready smile. I considered all I have to be thankful for and said a prayer of sorts, asking for blessings on those I love. I listened to my husband's steady breath punctuated by the occasional sighs and wiggles from the dog. I even tried some yoga breathing. Then my mind wandered to the events of the day, specifically to the classes I taught at the bead shop.
The morning class was new. It was a bead-weaving class called "The Daisy Drape". All the participants were seasoned 'stitchers' and after the first daisy they were well on their way. Conversation flowed and in no time they were linking their daisies stem to stem. The afternoon class was pearl-knotting. As much as I love knotting pearls I dread teaching the class. I always grapple with what I think the expectations of the participants will be and whether I will be able to teach the technique adequately. Pearl-knotting is challenging and seldom is the first effort a winning entry. The class was full.
We went through introductions. Then I shared some interesting facts about pearls, gave an overview of what they would be learning to do, had each of them lay out their pearls in the order they wanted them strung and unwind all six feet of silk cord they would use for knotting. I proceeded to go around to each one and demonstrate the technique. As always, I did this repeatedly. They were tentative at first, but I assured them we were just practicing. I showed them the importance of positioning the knot, giving it a pinch, then creating a tightrope for their pearls to dangle from while maintaining the tension, pushing and pulling until knot and pearl meet. They struggled. I walked them through the steps again. Then the first brave soul placed a knot. We cheered. Soon the rest followed. Not perfection by any means, but a good start. This was short-lived.
Everything that could go wrong in that class did. Missplaced knots marred paths to success and I had to discern the anatomy of each one and dissect it. Some of the pearls' holes were too small for the cord to pass through and I had to ream them out. Some pearls cracked under the pressure and the French wire unraveled. But with each obstacle came new learning; learning I couldn't possibly have shared with them in a three-hour workshop otherwise. They were better prepared 'knotters' because of it and each one proudly wore their imperfectly knotted strand of pearls home. I took home their gratitude for my patience, knowledge, and unfailing good humor. Many of them had been waiting months to take the class, were so excited to learn how and pleased they had a good instructor, especially since I knew my way around a tough knot. Their praise made me wonder why I wasted my energy dreading the class.
Under the spell of the moonlight I wondered something else - what we leave behind. Not only through life, but each moment. I thought of my novice pearl-knotters; the metaphor-for-life experience we shared and the impressions we left on each other. I thought of my parents and what they've left me. All the love, guidance, hope, tears and laughter. None tangible, but all of them gifts, precious gifts.
We all possess gifts. Like pearls, some occur naturally, others are cultivated. Whatever the case they are meant to be shared. This night of wakefulness beneath the moon's gaze revealed to me that we come into this world a bare soul and should leave this world, a soul bared. This is what we leave behind.
The rest is pixie dust...
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