The Art of Unravelling felted emblem
The Art of Unravelling
A seasonal practice of rewilding, mourning and emergence
Mangrove roots partially submerged in still water
Photo by Jimmy Blackwell on Unsplash

There is a word for what you are standing in

A seasonal practice of rewilding, mourning and emergence, where grief, kinship and wonder tangle and untangle.

The Art of Unravelling is not primarily about unravelling. It is about what becomes visible when you do.

A role, a certainty, a way of holding things together: most of what pulls apart in a life does not get witnessed while it is happening. It gets managed, or numbed, or rushed past. This is a practice for staying with it long enough to see what it is actually made of.

A close view of an antique woven textile with its threads frayed and pulling loose
Photo by Hans-Peter Traunig on Unsplash

In plain terms

What does "unravelling" mean here?
Unravelling is not falling apart. It is what becomes visible when something you have been holding together stops holding. The practice is a structured way of staying with that visibility instead of rushing to repair it.
Is this the same as grief?
Sometimes, but not only. You can grieve a role, a certainty, or a version of the future that is not a person. That grief is just as real, even though it is rarely named as grief.

If something above is already familiar to you, there are two ways in.

Continue into the seasons → Read what the practice is →