I put two balls of beautiful lavender blue hand spun wool in a basket by the couch for a scarf I intended to knit. That same night, Ben acted up, barking at the living room, wouldn't go in it, was just being 105 lbs. of black lab crazy. The novelty of his craziness wore off quickly (ask any lab people and they can tell you of what I speak....) and I tried to find what was wrong.
As I walked around the room, he followed me and went crazy barking at the yarn. I laughed and picked it up to show him. For some reason it was a big yarn monster to him. It terrified him!
I decided it was funny, and discounting his fear, left the yarn out and ignored it for the next two days thinking he would get over it. He didn't, and continued to tell me about the yarn monster, going so far as to show me by barking and stalking it every time I went into the room where it lived. I finally changed his perspective, and took the scary part away by simply moving the yarn to a table. Suddenly the power to intimidate and cause fear left the wool and Ben reclaimed the room as his own, snoozing in the sun on the carpet.
Change is personal. Yarn monsters are personal, too. They have the power to scare us and intimate unless we can change our perspective on the events, the cause, and the outcome. And, as I sit here with my big ball of yarn scary letter, I wonder what the change needs to be.