I woke up and started packing my stuff. The alam had startled me. I am slow in the mornings, but I actually don’t need so much time to get ready; I don’t have that much to pack. I like taking my time though.

For some reason I was being so clumsy this morning. I kept dropping stuff, hitting my head in the lamp, knocking things over. The wooden floorboards kept creaking and I could tell that I had woken up my friend in the other room, despite my attempts at sneaking.

And so in the midst of it, I set down my heel and felt a soft resistance followed by a little click, and despite managing to not put all of my weight on my heel, I wasn’t quick enough. I had broken it.

Strength is an amulet I have been wearing for maybe 4-5 years now. It is a thin slice I’ve cut from the jawbone of a moose (just imagine those beasts gobbling up bark and twigs and whatnot, imagine those jaws working!) and one of the first amulets I made. It is significant. It has been part of my journey of understanding ritualistic relationships with materials, and now it lay broken on the floor, gone after a split second of toughtlessness. Maaaaan.

But I got to work right away. I let the frustration hit me, mixed with denial, the feeling of a capital NO. And then I went looking for symbols: remember, that this is ritualistic work. It is a dot. Find lines. Connect it to the web.

And I remembered talking with my friend, whose home I was now leaving, about softness. I had said that I wanted to become softer. To me it means kinder, slower, more gentle. And I connected the quiet breaking of Strength to my wish to be softer, and I tought that maybe, now is the time to let go of strength. Strength might have played out its part as I continue my journey. I know that I am strong; like a mule, and stubborn to a fault, so should I ever need it, Strength is there. But now might be the time to re-aim my focus, stop clinging to Strength hoping it will save me from hardships and heartache, and start learning how to trust in Softness. Like the rye, I will bend.

With these thoughts I walked towards the station in the morning sun. And Stength? I let it drop quietly onto the traintracks.

…

(This story told in pictures.)