Ethiopian weaving

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia: and a tale of the weavers

In Addis Ababa, they’re everywhere.  The weavers. 

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With their warps and wefts a pristine white, the weavers’ hands move smoothly across the looms.  Their shuttles whirring back and forth are silent but efficient.  But it takes time for the pattern to emerge -- there are no shortcuts. 

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I’ve returned from Ethiopia.  I’ve brought back with me many lessons.  About people, about work, about life.  There are things I won’t soon forget.  There has been beauty but there has also been pain.  There were moments where I felt alone and moments where I felt misunderstood.  And as I sat in my hotel room with a long distance phone in my hand, I sometimes wondered if it was all worth it.

But I’ve learned from the weavers that there are no shortcuts.  And despite the broken strings and the blistered fingers, faith in oneself is often rewarded...

with goodness, with truth, and yes, with beauty.  

If not this time, then the next.

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I hope I will remember that.  And I hope that you will, too.