"Our thoughts, our words, and deeds are the threads of the net which we throw around ourselves." -- Vivekananda
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When I was a kid, I was obsessed with trying to figure out a way to make myself invisible. That, and learning how to fly.
When you're a kid, these seem like reasonable, realistic pursuits.
But it was the invisibility idea that captured me the most. Surely, there had to be a way...
I still remember the day that inspiration struck.
My sister and I were in my grandmother's front bedroom, and I was trying to find a hair that I could feel clinging to my arm. I was very frustrated, pawing and swiping, trying to find that invisible, annoying hair.
That's when it hit me. The idea to end all ideas.
Hair.
Hairs were very fine and thin. Practically invisible. They were always sticking to my arms and clothes and face, yet I could never see them. This was it. The answer I'd been looking for.
I could weave a net, made entirely of hair, and throw it over myself! I'd be invisible!
(As you can see, I was a child genius.)
Eagerly, I began pulling hairs out of my head. I enlisted my gullible little sister in pulling her hairs out, too.
Within a few minutes, I had a nice fistful of hairs. I was ready to get started weaving my net.
That's when I noticed the fatal flaw in my plan.
When I looked down at the bunch of hairs, all wadded up in my hand, I could see them. When they were all grouped together like that, they weren't invisible any more.
Darn.
Somehow I had missed the obvious. A quick glance in the mirror beforehand would've saved me a lot of trouble (and a bald spot), since all the hairs on my head were plainly visible.
(Okay, so maybe I wasn't a child genius.)
But I still think about my doomed invisibility net sometimes. I've seen the same flawed theory hold true in life.
Our lives are made up of small, mostly insignificant actions. By themselves, small actions seem inconsequential. Almost invisible.
What's the harm in little compromises or tiny breeches of judgment? They're small. No big deal.
But the problem with small compromises is that they add up. Maybe they don't seem like much taken alone, but over time, they take over the whole color and texture of our lives.
It's tempting to spend our lives waiting for the one defining moment...the chance to leave our mark with some mighty, heroic deed. But one deed, no matter how noble, is still only a single thread. If I'm counting on a single deed to define my life, I'll be as disappointed as the weaver who hopes to create a gorgeous tapestry by weaving a single golden thread among a collection of dirty mop strings.
It's not the isolated strands that give a cloth its beauty. Instead, the beauty comes from the accumulation of many small, lovely threads woven repeatedly throughout the fabric.
Every time I open my mouth to speak, every time I choose my attitude, every time I decide upon even the most minor course of action, I'm selecting a thread that will be woven into the net of my life. Each strand will leave its permanent mark in the completed piece of fabric.
I weave my net strand by strand, day by day.
It's up to me to choose each strand with care.
