The Worlds We Weave

The web is an almost endless firmament of threads. While searching for blogs concerned with nature, I came upon a wiki called Ecotone. From that wiki, I discovered some interesting blogs, Fragments from Floyd by Fred and Cassandra's Pages just two exceptional examples of these. From Fred's page last week I discovered that Ecotone runs biweekly topics in which its community of bloggers discuss a single topic en masse. And today's happens to be about spiders.

Spiders in New England are such tame characters. No Black Widows or Tarantulas roam the back roads here. My closest encounters usually occur inside, maybe spotting an eight-legged creature scurrying across the bathroom tiles. I usually leave it alone, considering it a small pet that collects undesirable insects, much like a cat that catches mice. And furthermore, on a superstitious note, I don’t wish it to rain.

Which brings me to my encounters with spiders in the great outdoors, usually just those threads between low-hanging branches. They'll catch your face while hiking like a loose strand of hair that just won't go back in place. Or those small rock spiders I see when resting on a rock: they clamber all around hiking their own steep territory, looking for their own inspiration.

But when younger, I saw spiders as welcome curiosities and Daddy Long Legs were my favorite ones. Their small pill-sized bodies, held in suspension by eight long thin spindly legs, presented an otherworldly creature to eyes trained on Saturday films of aliens and monsters. Here was a real monster.

Children are cruel sometimes and I’ll forego the horror stories here, but leave it said that Daddy Long Legs were approached with both dread and fascination. They made the world of tree and pond more than New Hampshire lakeside property, but a land of marvel and wonder.

In reflection, I guess that’s what all creatures do for us humans, whether those creatures be insect, animal, or next door neighbor (or blogger.) They remind us that the world is a miraculous place, full of, miracle of miracles, abundant and various life. Including our selves. And including our souls.

A Noiseless, Patient Spider

Noiseless, patient spider,
I mark'd, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them--ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,--seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form'd--till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

by: Walt Whitman