July 6, 2013

Today there was a spider in my shower. I turned on the water to wash it down the drain, but it got out of range of the spray. So I turned on the shower hose, and aimed it at the unsuspecting spider. It slid, but it did not go down the drain. I sprayed from all angles until it was out of sight. When I started to turn off the water, the spider re-appeared from the drain. Surprised, and a little panicked, I turned the water on it again until I was sure it was down the drain, holding the spray on the drain to ensure it could not climb back up. I felt relief, but also worry that the spider would somehow be back by morning. I realized that spiders represent so much latent fear and suffering. They hide in the shadows and back corners and, without warning, they enter your field of view, reminding you of omnipresent danger. A bite can be harmless or life-threatening, but it seems always a moment away. I wrote this little passage about spiders, but as I reread and reprocess the words, it seems to have so many different meanings to my life.

I feel it coming for me. I can’t see it and I can’t name it, but I know that it’s there—poised for an attack that will leave me breathless.  I can feel it nearby. It is hiding in the darkness, in the shadows. It lies in wait in the cold, dampness of my sneakers, between the layers of my sheets; a hidden threat awaiting its prey. A silent, slow killer lurking only in the places where I let my guard down—only in times when I am  focused on the light. The world around me is teeming with uncertainty and danger. I must always watch my step, the placement of my hand, the fall of a tired cheek against my pillow. Before I even see it coming I am stung. Before I even feel the pain the poison begins to ravage through my blood, leaving only damage and destruction in its path. 

As strange as it my sound I started to feel a little bad for the spider. Even though I timidly killed a very poisonous spider, I couldn't help but wonder how the spider might have been feeling, so I tried to write its story, too.

There is darkness all around. I can see the sunlight, but I just can’t bear the thought of entering its grasp. Alone I sit in the shadows, entrenched in the grime of cast-offs and rejection knowing that nobody wants me. Rather than looking in awe at the intricate and beautiful things I create people scream and run at the sight of me. I focus on staying out of sight, to avoid devastation to my tiny, unwanted existence. And yet, somehow, I am always found. Chased away from the place I call home to seek another dark cavern to live out my days in wait. Lurking in the shadows of beautiful things, I wait. I spin webs of deceit and sticky danger. With unforeseen power I strike, leaving my victims breathless and powerless. The prey becomes the predator as I watch my poison spread through their veins and still their beating heart. I feed on the defenseless, then await the day it will be my turn to become guts on a shoe, or washed down the shower drain. When they find me, I am as doomed as the insects that are caught in my web. But for now, I bask in the darkness.