This is weird to articulate but sometimes I feel like I'm an undertaker for craft supplies. Like if you believe that unused yarn has some metaphysical weight of the intentions behind its purchase and assembly, then a person's yarn stash has a life in itself. The potential of it, the emotional blessing of envisioning that perfect hat or sweater or mitten. Imaginings of the recipient of the project. I think all of that infuses it with an importance far beyond the $.79 price tag on a skein of cream acrylic from 1972.
I've inherited the supplies from each of my grandmothers, and now one of my partner's grandmothers. In the bags I inevitably find little scraps with notes of a pattern, a shopping list, a partially knitted or wound up ball, maybe a pompom or some blanket squares. They're so infused with that crafter's life.
And I take them and make them into little things and I give them a purpose and it feels like I lay them to rest. It's ok little skein, you're doing good, and you can be a little pillow or blanket or hat now. You can bring love and warmth and rest now.
And I add all the little thoughts and scraps of my own life to it by imagining my recipient or my own use of it.