Clotho is a spinner, she creates the moment of your birth, she spins the thread of your life. Is it golden and pure? Is it tattered and thin? Is it brown, grey, or a fine silvery thread that blows in a gentle breeze, like gossamer?
Suffering is part of those threads. Do you suffer? What is your tale of woe? Money. Love. Illness. Abuse. Neglect. Is your car broke down? Suffering is part. But so is happiness.
Are you rich in family? Are your pockets full of money? Do the dogs lick your toes just to watch you jump?
These threads can be woven into a tapestry of your life and either warm you and comfort you or feel like a wet blanket on a cold night. Are your threads rich in embroidery of joyful moments of peace? Your outlook is purely your own, she only provides the threads.
Lachesis determines the length of the thread. And the quality of life, or your destiny. Will you create ripples on the pond that span the world? Or will your ripples make your families life richer by your love and ability to knit wonderful booties every year at Christmas? Will your life bring happiness to millions? Or will you keep body parts in your freezer? Lachesis determines that with the creation of your thread. Free will still applies, but that thread is your destiny.
Dip a thread into a glass of water, it makes ripples. If you dip the same thread into a pond, not so much with the ripples. If you dip this same thread into the sea, the ripples are hardly noticeable. But some say if a butterfly flaps it wings in Brazil, it can create a tornado in Texas. Your presence has purpose. And you may never know what that is.
Atropos is the woman with the "abhorrent shears" to cut the thread. At times she does so with little notice. An infant that breathes twice and lays lifeless had a very short thread. Their lives were not meaningless, as their deaths were felt deeply by someone, somewhere. A prison guard wept bitter tears when this baby died, the prisoner only felt the pain of childbirth, her daughter meant nothing to her. She cared little for her own situation, the baby was only a burden.
My great-grandmother was over 100 years old when she passed. She saw the automobile evolve from a hand cranked bicycle-type gadget to a bat-winged door Ferrari. Her thread was long and rich. Full of learning and knowing and very busy fingers. She took her thread and made quilts that still warm us, even now, nearly 20 years since she breathed one last time.
I have made a difference in someone's life. I don't know whose. But I have touched too many lives in precarious and dangerous places to not have made a difference. My ripples are unknown to me. I like to think they travel far. I know there are two wonderful men and wonderful young woman that travel the world. I have made a difference in their lives, and they have made a difference in mine. Those changes affect those they touch. So my ripples are in Cuba. My ripples are in Indonesia. My ripples are in Ghana.
I do not know if they are good and pure. I do not know if they are harmful. But so far, my tapestry appears to be rich and full.