spiderbite

i wanted to write something in honor of the spider currently living in my mailbox. i see her every time i open my mailbox (though i rarely receive any mail addressed to me at this new residence) and am thus reminded with a start of her small black-and-brown existence. as i sift through the letters, her tiny body scurries out from lying in wait and then remains still, unsure. i sense that she is assessing me - am i a threat? a friend?

and there is something in this gentle gesture of sizing me up, which i've seen in several different species of animals, that makes me smile and feel some sort of swelling in my heart. it's the most innocent thing, the desire to live, and as she is so very small in relation to me, it makes sense that she would be so still. though her defenses aren't anything to laugh at, i could easily squash her into nothingness.

but why would i?

i mean her no harm and never could. she is allowed to live just as i am. i would love for her to remain there as long as she can stay warm and dry and perhaps even mother some babies, who knows.

i'm reminded of this fear that we sometimes feel when faced with an unknown. we stop and stand still when looking into its eyes, expecting we know not what, but often believing somewhere inside us that pain awaits us. it must be some primitive defense mechanism acting up, rearing its ugly head as we navigate the world around us.

recognizing this process helps to discern what is protective and what is preventative.

the universe is capable of smiling back at me just as i smiled at my mailbox she-spider, looming over her like some sort of loony giant. i long for her to survive as long as she is able, for thriving is beautiful and miraculous. why would i expect any less of a reaction from that-which-looms-over-me?

it's a funny question, but we will be forgiven for tending to expect the worst. universe smiles aren't delivered in the way that we humans expect, which seems to more resemble a constant dopamine rush than anything else. i imagine that it is more, instead, along the lines of a tibetan buddhist monk's sand mandala, that slow-building ritual, than an endless stream of opening birthday presents.

it would appear that any warmth we might experience as we live in this roiling and ever-shifting tapestry of vibrant and electric unfolding is both an act of effort and an act of non-effort. in one sense we work to even be able to feel any sense of acceptance and belonging in the universe, but in another it's not really work. not really.

i keep thinking these words to myself, 'light feeds light.' it's strange, but ever more these days does it seem to be the only way to put it. positivity (or, whatever adds to as opposed to whatever takes away) is an all-inclusive entity which knows not our human-made divisions, even those divisions which appear to separate us as beings. positivity exists within and without, inside yourself and outside. once accessed it births itself, almost like some metaphysical cell reproduction, copying and re-affirming its existence, continuing on in its mission.