invisible threads
Green was the color of the grass
Where I used to read at
Centennial Park
I used to think I would meet someone there
Teal was the color of your shirt
When you were sixteen at the yogurt shop
You used to work at to make a little money
Time, curious time
Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs
Were there clues I didn’t see?
And isn’t it just so pretty to think
All along there was some
Invisible string
Tying you to me?
Bad was the blood of the song in the cab
On your first trip to LA
You ate at my favorite spot for dinner
Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip
Getting lunch down by the Lakes
She said I looked like an American singer
invisible string, Taylor Swift, 2020.
You’re probably familiar with this track (and if not, please for the love of everything go listen to it!), and the premise behind it. And if you’re not, hopefully you just read the lyrics, but if you didn’t, Miss Swift is essentially singing about an “invisible string” that binds her with the subject of the song. Going back, she can identify experiences that connected them, even before they had met. This song has inspired a trend on TikTok right now as a derivative of what’s being described as “invisible string theory”, where people have been highlighting instances in which someone close to them in their life has had an experience that reflected some aspect of their own lives, or were literally in the same place, prior to when they met in the context of their current relationship. In simpler terms, the universe will keep you apart at all costs until you are meant to meet. For instance:
Per usual, the general trend provides a gross lack of awareness or credit to where the “theory” actually originates from. Rebranded as the invisible string theory, the red thread of fate (or the red string of fate, depending on where you are) is a story prevalent in East Asian mythologies that describes a physical connection that exists between two people destined to meet, fortified by an invisible, red thread. The thread may be tangled, stretched, twisted, or mangled, but the connection will always exist. The details (whether the thread is tied to a pinky finger or an ankle, etc.) is regionally dependent, but the core of the tale remains the same. You and your soulmate(s) are connected, right now. They could be walking around, right next to you, completely unaware of your significance. And you, of theirs. You could cross paths, at any moment, without even realizing it. You are not meant to meet yet.
It’s a concept that has compelled me since I was first introduced to it– and, in accordance with the videos under the trend in tandem with my own experiences, I believe it. Maybe the thread isn’t physical, or red, or perhaps there is no thread at all— but I do think that we share unbreakable, metaphysical connections with specific people throughout our lives, and that the people we are meant to know are meant to know us.
Funnily enough, someone very close to me in my life thinks all of this is bullshit (he tends to be cynical about things like this, concepts that are considered “spiritual”). He asked me why it mattered– what is the consequence of this mythological tale, this theory, being true? Or false, for that matter? And to be honest, I didn’t really have an answer. But I also don’t think it’s that black and white– just because its truth doesn’t “matter” on a universal level, doesn’t make it irrelevant, or totally insignificant, either.
At this point in life, there’s a lot of talk about the future, about what comes next. It’s a lot of new experiences, and a lot of change. You move away from familiarity to somewhere completely foreign, in the spirit of this great new chapter (you’re in your prime!) and have to construct your own life from the ground up for the first, but probably not the last, time. And with that comes excitement, yes. But also discomfort, and difficulty (with many things– do I wash these sheets on hot or cold? What actually is business casual?). I am not one to invite change with open arms. I can accept it yes, but the process isn’t something I enjoy. It feels unstable, unpredictable. It is out of my control, and that makes me uncomfortable.
So, when things seem especially unsure, I revert back to what’s familiar:
The sound of ocean waves crashing against a jutting cliff, the taste of rice and salt. Warm Vanilla Sugar, cardamom and cinnamon and kidney beans, fragrant, boiling on the stove, the dissonant sounds of a rehearsing pianist. Coffee in the morning, ginger in the evening, and lemons for the in-betweens. Distinct but distant chatter coming from the room down the hall, a shelf of art packed full, spilling over, shattering. A brush of fur against an ankle, oily hair and a kiss on the head, gentle fingers on backs and warm water on feet.
What brings me the most comfort though, perhaps, is the familiarity, the consistency, of people. My family, my friends. Regardless of what happens, there are a select bunch of people that I know are not going anywhere. And, according to the mythology, there is something innate, something subconscious, that will bind us together regardless of circumstance, and regardless of distance— unbreakable, metaphysical connections. And, perhaps even more intriguing, there are people that will be important to me, just walking around somewhere. Connections that will inevitably be forged, just waiting for the right moment. It’s a nice thought. Cheesy maybe, but nice. Comforting, in an age of change.
So for me, that’s why it matters— comfort. I think it’s just nice to think about the people in my life as a part of a makeshift web that follows me, present and connected. Just a single thread’s tug away, whenever I may need them, or they may need me. It’s also just interesting to think about when you truly met someone for the first time.
For example, the other day I had a friend over for dinner.
We had only met about four, maybe five months prior— I had never heard of her, and could not recall ever having seen her around before we had initially met. It was during a school program, of course, where all great relationships originate. We were eating shrimp pasta and sipping red wine, talking about our interests, our ambitions. She said she was a screenwriter. I tell her I am an artistic director, a producer, an editor. I ask her if she’s worked with the school’s film organization. She smiles. She says yes.
We realized that we had sat right next to each other— her right behind me— for six separate club meetings and a premiere over a year and a half prior. And this wasn’t some massive consulting club. We had definitely bumped into each other at those meetings, but one had just never perceived the other. Us connecting during that program was the unification of our thread. We were finally meant to meet.
In a way, this myth is just another way to say: “small world”, or even “everything happens for a reason”. That the people in your life are there for a purpose, coming and going as they are meant to in order to serve you best throughout the grand span of your lifetime. It kind of circles back to the idea that you are a “mosaic” of everyone you have ever met:
Your childhood best friend you always mimicked, whose favorite color is still yours. The permanent scar on your knee from when your family friends taught you to skateboard; they got divorced and moved away soon after, you haven’t spoken to them since. Despite being twenty years old you still tie your shoes the way your kindergarten teacher taught you— two bunny ears, wrapping around each other each other in a dance, into a bow. Using semicolons more often than you should, because your sixth grade English teacher loved them, and you loved her.
While the traditional mythology is typically associated with romantic soulmates, I like to think it extends past this. All of the people you have met and have stayed, did so for a reason— they all share an invisible thread with you, and you with them.
Anyways, regardless of the theory’s, the myth’s, validity, I encourage you to take a look at your own little *web of important people* in your life. Because you never know where your invisible strings, or red threads, may connect.
SHOOT CREDITS, AND SPECIAL THANKS TO:
Models: Sara Vetter + Arianna Wooten
Creative Direction & Photography: Riya Khetarpal + Spencer O’Brien
Styling, Editing, & Collaging: Riya Khetarpal
All images are courtesy of the author
