This is an imaginative story, not a mystery. No religion, no guide, only inspiration.
Two threads are better than one, three hold each other.
Each human leaves behind a thread of life, an imaginative path that extends with every step he goes, a string that binds him to every place he was, and every one he met. This string does not hold him, but it connects him while he moves forward. It is more than his history, it is his impact, his responsibility, his part of reality.
There are things to be learned through that image.
Imagine this string to be of varying strength, depending on his virtue and thoughts, his health and manners. Imagine also that the matter of this string varies, depending on his empathy and the honesty of his word – being rough and easy to knot, or slick and impossible to grab. Also, imagine that his color changes, the emotions he sows, and sometimes the string is filthy and wet, weakening every other string he touches, or dry or oily, strengthening and protecting them. It might be flexible but weak, or strong and hard to bow.
As he goes through life alone, in his own direction, he has to bear all weight of life alone. And the longer he goes alone, the more his string must bear. If he goes into a good direction, or his string is inviting, others might go in parallel, giving him confidence.
As he goes with others agreeing to support each other and going into the same direction, they wind around each other, each supporting the other. But, it is better for equal strings to wind around each other, and for others to wind around the first.
And any time they want to wind around each other, they should first create a knot, so that their source is strong. But when they part ways, they should also create a knot, so that the rope created does not transmit pressure and confusion to them.
So each string, once alone, then in parallel, then intertwined, then any of it, moves and changes place and shifts direction. Many strings, all with their own mind. Some beautiful garments are created, by running in parallel and intersection in an orderly manner. Of different color, of varying strengths. Nice patterns are created.
Or they go wrong and not share weight but put it on the other, not knot but go confused, changing and splitting and not knowing where they come from nor where they go to next. A chaotic nothing without strength, with every string left weaker then before.
Sometimes the wind around others to protect, other times to capture. A delicate balance to take.
Again, sometimes colors mix that are painful for the eyes. Other times strings of nice colors create beautiful strong ropes to pull the whole world.
Some strengthen others, others weaken them by dirt. Stay away from dirty strings.
And while the fabric of the world is created this way, all humans walk and climb it, some pulled lightly, others heavily. Some with strength and purpose, other with neither.
The ancient peace is a beautiful garment of many dimensions, holding and folding and dissecting in many colors and growing strength. Because each string respects each other under the codex of natural law. As single souls find their paths together they can lift a heavy weight. Sacred honor is what they have and what they search for, they stay away from dirt.
The delicate cores hidden to be not tainted, knots holding up order and bringing end to what has already ended, holding for a time, then separating in good will. Not glued, not held by chains – but holding each other until one lets go.
Can you imagine this beauty, this complexity, this usability, this purpose?
The fabric of the ancient peace, the good world, no man can see in full. I envy him who can grasp it in its beauty and enjoys wearing those kingly robes.