spider friend, spider friend

There is a spider who lives on my bedside table. I watch his occupational progress as each morning a bit of web covers more surface area, connecting rose quartz to the over-turned selenite. One morning, my hair clip is covered, like the rotted ribs of an elephant carcass in the desert, a cozy den for a precocious predator. My ego finds pride in my eccentricity, allowing a spider to thrive so close to where my head rests! How novel! But I like to fancy it is more about trust. I know it poses no threat to me, I have no violent desires to snuff him out for the sake of it, and I appreciate that I find 10-15(!!!) new gnats entangled in his web each morning.

I haven’t seen him in a few days and there haven’t been any new webs. I am unsure if he has moved on to a better spot or if my cat has eaten him.

I was leaving my apartment and caught site of quite a large spider, seemingly drifting in the air. It was working quite hard on it’s web, translucent except when the wind shifted and some strands caught the light. It got me thinking about how hard I’ve been working, how I’ve been weaving so many little invisible strands, how God has been weaving so many invisible strands for me. How at a certain point, you have to trust that you’ve woven your web and sit back and wait for the gnats to come, to trust your work is done and what you’ve been working towards is coming to you.

Upon a quick google of spider spiritual meanings, one of their representations is manifestation. Rather than pat myself on the back for a metaphor well founded, I credit instead that all of our minds are connected through the invisible strings of consciousness that God has seen fit to provide us with, and that we all have direct access to the wisdom we look for in others.