weaving is remembering, part 1
- Jessica Land
- Apr 21
- 3 min read
Through beginning to learn how to weave baskets, Willow has become a cherished teacher for Woven.
We have been weavers of “containers” that are less tangible than baskets. Our containers are woven of relationships. They hold people. They hold the possibility of connection as community, to self, and to the land. They hold the possibility of wholeness.
We were initially drawn to basket weaving for a variety of personal and shared reasons: childhood relationships with Willow, ancestral ties to weaving, the desire to sculpt with natural material. For Woven as an organization, given our name, it felt important for us to have a relationship with weaving as a craft. We sensed that the embodied act of shaping this material into a vessel would change us. And it has. (more on this in Part 2)
Before weaving, our teacher Hosanna White led us back to the land, to remember where a basket originates. We were invited to steward a Willow patch that had gone untended for several years. Untended Willow does not produce very many of the long, straight shoots called “weavers” that are required for basket-making. Our pruning would stimulate growth of abundant weavers for harvest the following year.
Before we cut into this grand stand of Willow with our saws, loppers, and pruners, we paused. We listened to the land. We felt the wind moving over our bodies and through flexible branches. We felt life-giving water running underfoot and nearby in the full river. We drank the winter light through our skin. We let our feet feel heavy over the soil and grass, felt ourselves strongly rooted like Willow. We gave thanks for the aliveness of these plant-bodies, for their existence here, and to the land for feeding them. We remembered our kinship with them.
Some weavers were harvested that day and dried for basket-making. Hosanna took on the more-than-6-months of drying time followed by weeks of soaking before they were ready for weaving. In the meanwhile, we practiced the patience the process requires. We attuned to dynamic seasonal rhythms: from restful dormancy to exuberant renewal, and back. We oriented toward reciprocity.
Consumer culture sets up an expectation that material can be purchased on-demand. This extended relationship with Willow is training us away from treating their body as a commodity, toward a relationship with Willow as kin in the living web, a sibling who generously gives weavers in response to being honored and tended.
And Willow doesn’t only give weavers. We have also received lessons about rootedness and flexibility, about how far we can bend before we buckle. With the human-constructed world as it is, we’ve had plenty of opportunities to apply Willow’s flexibility to our lives, both individually and as Woven. We’ve done our best to stay rooted as life’s challenges have rocked us.
When we returned to the Willow patch in January of this year, we were greeted by robust plants with bountiful weavers. Our labor the previous winter had invigorated the plants and now their vitality inspired us. Our intention to share this Willow with our community was finding form.
Again, before harvesting, we paused to offer our gratitude to the land that holds us and Willow, to the air we exchange with Willow, to the water that feeds us all, to the sunlight that animates all of us. We felt our interconnectedness, our bodies enlivened by the same source. We gave thanks for all we are learning from these plants.
As an extension of our gratitude, we invite you to join us in celebrating the beauty and generosity of Willow. You can experience Woven’s Willow Rose installation on May 17th at Mt. Pisgah’s Wildflower Festival. And, if you feel drawn to weaving, consider making a basket with us in this November’s 2-day workshop. More info here.
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