Day 178 Sticky Silk

June 5, 2015

(This is part of a 365 project during my 70th year where I write and illustrate a blog on each day’s gift.)

It seemed that the air was glistening right in front of me on the path. I took it as a sign to stop. If I had continued, three things likely would have happened:
  • I would have ruined a masterpiece. 
  •  My head probably would have been covered in fine sticky threads. 
  •  My body might have become an unwilling runway for an arachnid.
The tiny yellow spider had almost completed a perfect web, which hung in the middle of the park’s walking path. The silky threads sparkled in the sunlight as I watched the spider make its way around the orb, spinning away.
I think there was a kind of existential Zen then—meditation, searching for a deeper meaning in life, and living in the now—for both the spider and the observer. There was also a thin place, a merging of sorts, where the spider and I existed only in that moment, the observer aware of the other and the observed immersed in its creation unaware.

I don’t know how long I lingered but when it was time to move on, I had to be careful moving forward because of the three things listed above. I picked up a long twig, looked closely, ducked low and waved the stick in front of my face. Lucky for both of us, I did not catch any of the strands attached to trees. I continued on my walk and the spider continued weaving. However, for the rest of my walk, I cautiously continued to wave my stick—I may be fascinated by spiders and their webs but I do not like them on me. For the rest of the walk, I waved my stick in a continuous infinity-shaped pattern.

My gift today is a moment of zen .
You can find links to my other posts on this project here:

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