In the beginning, the Weaver was. The Weaver set the loom and took a thread that was a thread of Its own body and began to weave.
The weaving would be of a beautiful garden that told its own story, the story of the Weaver.
The garden would be filled with all that could feel and see and hear and speak of the goodness of the Weaver. All that was created would tell of who the Weaver was and what the goodness was. And so it came to be.
From the moment of awakening, and maybe even before, the Weaver was known to each being, forever imprinted in its soul. For the created one was a thread of the Weaver’s own being, and they could never be separated.
(Wong, Corinne. “Yarn Dyed with Natural Materials.” “Weaving Life in the Andes Photo Exhibit.”)