The intricacies of spider webs interrupted my life three times yesterday.
First, a photo worthy moment where the dew sparkled on the threads of a series of spiderwebs in our field. It was a hazy morning, all the same tones blurred by the moisture in the air. The sun slipped onto the meadow and light reflected off of what seemed like millions of drops – creating tiny, intricately laced rainbows everywhere you looked.
Could you photograph that for me?
Next, in a discussion overheard in the hallway at school. A mother, on the phone with a child, patiently attempting to expand an opinion. Her side of the conversation, was calm, repetitive, gently spoken and kind. She paced outside my office door as she spoke – her hand over her mouth – cupping the sound directly towards the listener. “That’s the spider’s whole world, honey. It took him at least an hour to make that web. Is he there right now? No? Okay. Go back and look at how beautiful that web is. Would you draw it for me?”
Would you draw it for me?
The last came through an act of obedience. She tells me that she’s been thinking about the delicacy of spider webs and how interwoven and intricate and complicated they are. And she wonders why she is certain she should be telling me about that – hesitant because not many people like to hear about spiders in any way, shape or form. “But, well, I think that might be what is happening in your life right now. All of these intricate pieces coming together in a very specific pattern. Maybe something to write?”
Would you write for me?
The silks that spiders use to weave their webs have some amazing properties. They are composed of a mixture of protein crystals in a matrix of amino acids. This structure makes them one of the strongest natural fibers, about half as strong as steel. But unlike steel, spider silk is able to be extended and designed to accommodate changes – so it actually is “tougher” than steel. Researchers are focusing on ways to biosynthesize silk to create new fiber products.
“Spider webs, it turns out, can take quite a beating without failing. Damage tends to be localized, affecting just a few threads — the place where a bug got caught in the web and flailed around, for example. This localized damage can simply be repaired, rather than replaced, or even left alone if the web continues to function as before.”
Additionally, the interesting patterns within spider webs act as camouflage for the spider, as well as making sure that the web ‘stands out’ to non-prey (like humans) increasing the chances that we won’t walk into them and cause damage to the structure.
Is it possible that the life that I am leading is bound together in the intricate patterns created by the strong, adaptable, silks I have been given as my tools to use in this world? When I take a beating, my damage is localized, affecting just a few threads – and I am repaired, rather than replaced – sometimes left alone and continuing to function as before. These repairs and growth are the niggling beginnings of wisdom, patience and – dare I say it – obedience. Stepping up and stepping through. Creating camouflage to fit in while at the same time developing a means to stand out for survival.
What are the things that I love? A strong image, a snippet of conversation, following a trail of thought that seems to have no connection. Story lines that won’t allow you to rest, flower bouquets that filled their childhoods and their wedding tables, warm puppy bodies on my feet as I write. My husband’s smile, and his pure acceptance.
Open your heart and follow your thoughts. Listen carefully to your world today. Look for the nuances. Breathe through issues, annoyances and impatience. You are building your web, weaving your life, breaking and repairing and continuing to function. You are vulnerable, and you are strong. You are flexible, adaptable and standing out to survive.
wanderingoutinleftfield 