The Tailor, The Button & What Has Become Of Culture

Today I’ve got a story for you.

And a reason I’m sharing it.

THE TAILOR AND THE BUTTON

By Duncan Williamson (and shared with me by his widow Linda Williamson)

Published in The Coming of the Unicorn (Floris Books, 2012)

I hope you’re going to enjoy this story and that you’ll remember it. I hope you’ll tell it many years from now when I’m gone from this land.

A long time ago there once lived a little tailor. And this little tailor was very clever, for he was the cleverest tailor in all the land, and he worked for the king. O, he made beautiful dresses for the princesses and gowns and cloaks for the queen, and cloaks for the king. He worked so hard for the royal palace. The king was very proud of his little tailor because he worked so hard. But because he worked so hard the little tailor never had time to make any clothes for himself. And soon his own clothes got worn and he was in rags.

One day, when he appeared before the king, the king said, ‘Tailor, how dare you come before me in such a state! You’re in rags. You just look like a beggarman. Don’t I pay you enough money to make some clothes for yourself?’

And the little tailor bowed before the king and said, ‘Yes, my sire, my lord, you pay me enough money. But you see I don’t have time, because I also work for some people in the village and I make clothes for them.’

‘Well,’ the king said, ‘this will never do! You must never come before me in such a state again, because you put me to shame being my favourite tailor.’ And then the king clapped his hands, called for the footman to come before him. The footman came and bowed before the king.

The king said, ‘Footman, I want you to go down to the palace stores and bring me a roll of cloth.’ Cloth came in beautiful rolls and the king bought it this way. ‘Find the finest roll of cloth you can in the palace stores,’ he said, footman, ‘and bring it before me!’ So the footman went off. In a few moments he returned with a beautiful roll of cloth, the nicest cloth in the whole palace. And the king caught it and held it between his hands, ‘Now,’ he said, ‘tailor! Do you see this beautiful roll of cloth? I want you to take this home and make yourself a coat -- the most beautiful coat you have ever made in your life. Now be gone with you, tailor, and never return before me till you make yourself the finest coat in all the land!’

O, the little tailor was happy. He carried the roll of cloth home with him, put it on his little bench. And he clipped and he stitched and he sewed all day long. He made the most beautiful coat that he had ever made in his life.

When he wore it to the village and when he wore it to the palace people looked, they pointed and said, ‘Hey, look at the tailor! Look at the tailor’s coat! Isn’t that a beautiful coat the tailor has? O, I wish we had a coat like that!’

But no one had a coat like the tailor. And when he appeared before the king, the king was overjoyed, and the tailor was happy. For he had the most beautiful coat in all the land. The tailor wore his coat, he wore it and wore and wore it, and soon it was all worn through.

And then the little tailor brought his coat home and he said, ‘I can still do something with this.’ So, he spread the coat on his little bench and he clipped and he stitched and he sewed. From the coat he made a jacket -- the most beautiful jacket you ever saw in your life.

And when he walked to the village people looked, they pointed and said, ‘Hey, look at the tailor! Look at that jacket the tailor’s wearing! Isn’t that the most beautiful jacket we’ve ever seen in wir life? O, I wish we had a jacket like that.’ But no one had a jacket like the tailor. And when he appeared before the king, the king was overjoyed to see the tailor in such a beautiful jacket. The little tailor was happy. He wore his jacket and he wore it and wore it, and soon his jacket was all worn through.

But the little tailor took the jacket home and spread it on his bench, and he said, ‘I can still do something with this.’ So he took his scissors and he clipped and he stitched and he sewed all day long. And from the jacket he made a waistcoat -- the most beautiful waistcoat you ever saw in all your life!

When he wore it to the village people looked and they pointed and said, ‘Hey, hey, look at the tailor! Look at that waistcoat the tailor’s wearing! Isn’t that the most beautiful waistcoat we have ever seen in our life? O, I wish we had a waistcoat like that.’

But no one had a waistcoat like the tailor. And when he appeared before the king, the king was overjoyed to see the tailor in such a beautiful waistcoat. The little tailor was happy. And he wore his waistcoat, he wore it and he wore it and soon his little waistcoat was all worn through.

So the little tailor took the waistcoat home, he spread it on his bench and said, ‘I can still do something with this.’ So he took his scissors and he clipped, he stitched and he sewed all day long. From the waistcoat he made a beautiful little cap -- the most beautiful little cap you ever saw in your life!

And when he wore it to the village people looked, and they pointed, they said, ‘Hey, hey, look at the tailor! Look at that cap the tailor’s wearing! Wouldn’t it be nice if we had a cap like that?’ Everyone wanted a cap like the tailor but no one could have a cap like the tailor. Because the cap the tailor had made was special for himself. When he appeared before the king, the king was overjoyed to see the tailor in such a beautiful cap.

And the little tailor was happy. He wore his little cap, he wore it and wore it to the envy of everybody, and soon it was all worn through.

And then the little tailor took his little cap home, he put it on the bench and said, ‘I can still do something with this.’ So he took his scissors and he clipped, he stitched, he clipped and he stitched. From the cap he made a little bow tie -- the most beautiful little bow tie you ever saw in all your life!

When he walked to the village people looked and they pointed, they said, ‘Hey, look at the tailor! Look at that tie the tailor’s wearing! Isn’t that the most beautiful tie we have ever seen in wir life? O, I wish we had one like that. I wish we had a tie like the tailor.’ But no one had a tie like the tailor. When he wore it before the king, the king was very pleased to see the tailor in his beautiful tie. And the little tailor was happy. He wore it and wore it to the envy of everybody, and soon the little tailor’s tie was all worn through.

He took the little tie home and put it on his bench, he said, ‘I can still do something with this.’ So he took his scissors, he clipped and stitched and he clipped and stitched, and from the tie he made a little cloth button. Because cloth buttons were very popular in these days gone by.

And when he wore his little button to the village people looked and pointed, they said, ‘Hey . . . hey, look at that button the tailor’s wearing! Isn’t that the most beautiful button we’ve ever seen? O, I wish we had a button like that, I wish we had fifty like that!´ But no one had a button like the tailor. And when the king spied the button he was very impressed by the tailor’s button. The little tailor was very happy. And the tailor wore his little button, he wore it and wore it and soon his little button was all worn through.

The little tailor took his button home, even though he felt sad at heart, and he put his little button on the bench. And he said to himself, ‘I can still do something with this . . . And from his little button he made a story. And that’s the story I have told to you this evening!

---

It strikes me that this is a lot like what happens to culture over time. It can become eroded by forces within and without.

We might imagine that each stage of the jacket’s decrease and dwindle is another generation or era of our ancestors in the face of the frictions of Empire and the hard times.

You might imagine that the tailor in this story is your soul.

There have been, for all of our ancestors, times of cultural largesse and times of diminishment. There were beginnings and endings. Sometimes, they say, the whole world ended. Not just once but many times.

For many alive today, it feels like the world is ending again. The grand fabric of possible futures we once poured ourselves into tailoring has become diminished to the size of a button or even to only a memory of that button and all it once was. '

But endings are not always what they seem. Michael Meade writes about this in his book Why The World Doesn’t End:

"The meaning of the word “end” might seem obvious and conclusive; yet root meanings reveal “tailings” and “remnants” and “that which is left over”… [it] carries the sense that the current state cannot continue and that it is too late for things to simply be repaired.

In order for things to change in a meaningful way, many things must come to and end. As archetype of radical change, [it] presents a pattern in which a shattering of forms occurs before the world as we know it can be reconstituted.

In the cosmic turn around if enough endings can be found, things can begin again… When the end seems near, ancient and lasting things are also close and waiting to be discovered… What we find at the end are both last things and things that last… Chaos not only describes the way that things fall apart at the end, but also the original state from which all creation continually arises…

In the end, all we can offer the world is the life we came here to live and the gifts our soul would have us give. When the end seems near, genuine security can only be found in taking the kind of risks that lead to a greater sense of life and a more encompassing way of being in the world…

Great crises and impossible demands often provoke hidden resources and reveal hints of the hidden wholeness and unity of life. The threat of collapse and utter loss can provoke a deeper sense of wholeness where nothing but total involvement and whole-heartedness will work… this capacity for great vision and imagination tends to awaken only after other approaches have failed.”

And so it is with the tailor. Each diminishment brings about another level of creativity and beauty making as a response.

We could take instruction from that: respond to diminishment with a grief-informed beauty making rather than a grievance encrusted, mass-produced ugliness from the factory of the modern psyche.

There are always tailings and remnants left over. Each generation inherits what it does, it’s share of the largesse of cultural patrimony and the particular poverties of the times. And every generation is both enobled and defeated by the thing. It’s always been this way. But even the defeats and poverties are an entrustment.

“Someone I loved once

gave me a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand

that this too, was a gift”

Mary Oliver, “The Uses of Sorrow”.

The important thing is to make whatever we’ve received into the most beautiful gift we can, even if it’s much reduced in volume and has seen better days; especially then. It’s the instinct and commitment to make beauty that is the thing.

I was once speaking with Stephen Jenkinson about culture work and he referenced it as, “the materials at hand meeting the troubles of the time.”

And so the tailor shows us how to be culture workers. The fabric is worn and something is doing the wearing down. That’s the trouble of times. The fabric is the materials at hand. Using those, the tailor chooses to make beauty over and over.

We inherit this life from the King, from God, from the divine, the Great Mother, the Holy in Nature. Whatever you call that one, or those ones, they have granted us this life and these days here with each you. You and I, right now. You reading these words. Even now. Even here.

We, or our people, were given what we needed to make beauty in our lives or amongst our people and it lasted for a time. These were the golden, halcyon days. Nature was abundant.

And then there was the wear and tear of life. We, and the cultures from whence we came, rubbed up against the troubles that seem to afflict this world - famines, natural disasters, war and cataclysm. The land began to struggle. The sky itself failed us and whirled like a scroll. People went mad and burned people alive in order to avoid Hell. It all took its toll and left its marks.

Those good days of the tailor made coat we collectively crafted, it didn’t last forever, did it?

We scrambled. We scattered. We adapted. We emigrated.

And then, somehow, we became us, now. You and me. Here.

We are entrusted with our lives and times we are born into and tasked with making beauty from it however unpromising the circumstance.

And our soul knows how to stare long and hard and the troubles of its times and to imagine new, ornate, never-before-seen designs to charm the hurting world and devastate it with colour and elegance.

It knows that this kind of craft is a food for those to come no matter the form and no matter how small.

In the end, it all falls to dust. Even you and I. In the end, we’re all stories and the soul wants to tell a story, and shoot it like an arrow through time to pierce the hearts of the ones to come so that they will know that this kind of beauty once lived in the world and that they are not alone. That it’s time to wake up and make music again.

The story is important. The story reminds you and I that it was once otherwise. That the good times of health and happiness existed. That our ancestors were granted the outrageous fabric of cultural teachings and natural abundance and the friendship of the world. And that, over time, this faltered, failed, fell. The story can remind us that it hasn’t always been this way but that, in the face of the harrowings, there were those who crafted a gift of their defeats from the remnant of their regalia of days.

A button is a seed full of story.

A story is a seed full of memory.

And, if we plant it again, in the soils of our endangered and endangering times, there’s a chance that cultural memory might grow again and our indigenous, ancestral souls might sprout again in the faces of those to come.

A chance.

But we have to do our part and take in our hands what we’ve entrusted with and see if, instead of trying to fix the diminuendo, feature it and something worthy of those to come.

“The wrecked landscape of our World House could sprout a renewed world, but a new language has to be found. We can't make the old world come alive again, but from its old seeds, the next layer could sprout.

This new language would have to grow from the indigenous hearts we all have hidden.

It shouldn't be the tongue of oneness, not one language, not a computer tongue of homogenization, but a diverse, beautiful, badly made thing whose flimsiness and inefficiency force people to sing together to keep it well-spoken and sung into life over and over again, so that nobody forgets to remember.

We need to find gorgeous, unsellable, ritual words to reanimate, remeasure, rebuild, and replaster the ruined, depressed flatness left by the hollow failure of this mechanized, orphaned culture.

For this, we need all peoples: our poets, our shamans, our dreamers, our youth, our elders, our women, our men, our ancestors, and our real old memories from before we were people. We live in a kind of dark age, craftily lit with synthetic light, so that no one can tell how dark it has really gotten. But our exiled spirits can tell.

Deep in our bones resides an ancient, singing couple who just won't give up making their beautiful, wild noise. The world won't end if we can find them." - Martin Prechtel