There’s something unnerving about people who don’t have a drawer full of nonsense.
- No basket of oddments.
- No jars of feathers and beach pebbles.
- No tangled nest of yarn scraps, once part of something ambitious.
- No button tin passed down from a gran or an auntie.
It’s not judgment, not really. It’s concern. Because where is their whimsy?
- Where are your Nik Naks?
- Your glittery nonsense, your offcuts of memory?
- Your tiny pebble that looks like a heart, or your conker so old it’s turned matte and wise?
- Where is your sun-bleached feather from a day you don’t remember but felt happy?
I worry about people who only collect the “useful.”
Who can throw away an unfinished notebook without flinching.
Who don’t keep dried flowers until they crumble into petal dust,
or pick up a shell just because it feels nice in the hand.
I worry because whimsy is soul glue.
It holds us together when the world feels sharp and pragmatic.
It’s the reason we still smile when we find a sticker from a cereal box in an old diary.
Or why we treasure a child’s scribble like it’s a Picasso.
Your whimsy is your wonder, your softness, your anchor to joy.
It’s the part of you that still believes in magic,
that sees the beauty in a broken brooch,
that finds purpose in collecting “silly little things.”
So I’ll ask again, gently, but with deep concern:
Where are your Nik Naks?
Where is the box under the bed filled with half-finished crochet flowers?
Where is the jar of buttons, the dried orange slice from last Christmas,
the friendship bracelet you made at 13?
Because if you don’t have a bit of whimsy,
how are you cushioning your spirit in this loud, hard-edged world?
Go find your odd treasures.
Pick up that shell. Keep the ribbon from the gift.
Stash the little joys.
Let them remind you who you are …..a soft, strange, beautiful creature made of stories and scraps.
Love & healing hugs
Wool Goddess 
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