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The Return

The Return


Merino wool, cotton, yak, alpaca, silk, hemp, and other natural fibers


Please handle with care. Rebecca's work is designed to be a decorative wall hanging only, not to be used as rugs or regularly handled. Avoid moisture except to gently steam the fringe if necessary shortly after installation. Use clean hands to comb through fringe or straighten strings at the top, careful to avoid snagging fibers. No maintenance cleaning is necessary besides gently dusting with a feather dusty as needed.


While color representation is made as accurate as possible, please note that hues may vary from monitor to monitor. If you are commissioning a custom piece, samples of the materials can be sent free of charge for you to handle and compare in person. 

Searching, striving, pleading

Desperately reaching

For someone, something, outside myself

To remedy my heart.


A desire to be seen and known

And pronounced enough

Was clouded by the belief

That I was nothing

Imperfect on my own,

Prone to wander,

To disappoint.


The painting on the wall showed a man

Hand outstretched from under the water

Hoping for deliverance

Even as he drowned.


It seemed beautiful,

His humble desperateness,

His sole hope for deliverance

In a power and source

Standing above him on the waves.


I thought it was beautiful

Until I myself ran out of breath

And realized at the peak of pain

That I could stand.


Flooded with new awareness,

Touched to my core with truth,

I felt in my very bones a course correction

Bringing eagerness, purpose,

And freedom to my soul.


What I thought was a quest

Was actually a return.

There was nothing to prove, to find, to figure out

That wasn’t already within me.


Strength, freedom, abundance, peace

These were my birthright.

Not something I had to search for,

Reach for, or even become.


Rather, they were simply beneath the surface,

Waiting for me to uncover, reclaim, and restore.

Calling me with a voice so tender,

To return to who I was all along.


Like a drop of water falling from the sky,

I had cried over my separation from the river,

The ocean, the source from which I came

Only to joyfully wake up with the comprehension

That in every form–rain, fog, ice, a cloud–

I had always been water,

The separation was only an illusion.


I’ve thrown away the map,

Torn off the masks,

And though disorienting at times,

This path of waking up to who I am has felt familiar,

Like remembering your childhood bedroom

Or reconnecting with a favorite song.


There is so much to return to within me,

A wellspring of love and light to receive.

The path is no longer dim or desperate,

But paved with safety, warmth, and a feeling of home.

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