I have often read about the wood wide web - the mycelium network amongst the roots - but as I have walked in the forest in many different weathers another wood wide web has appeared... not visible every time, and yet is always there, just waiting for the light to strike it right and to be revealed.
Spiders.
There must be so many of them.
Everywhere.
Threads connecting branches, connecting trees, connecting trees to the understory, connecting the understory, connecting the understory to the ground, connecting the forest to me.
Old webs, new webs. Strands floating, waving.
On one of my walks I was marvelling at the spirals at the tip of the ferns and decided to go closer and take some photographs. That is when I noticed the spider. Beautifully patterned and tiny. Standing on top of the fern checking me out fearlessly. Despite the massive size difference there was still a tinge of fear within me. Deep rooted and inherited from my mother, who no doubt inherited from her mother.
As a female I was always aware of being rescued from insects by males, or being teased and threatened with them by the males of my species.
When I became a mother of twin girls I decided I did not want them to inherit my fear, so they did not need to be rescued but would be able to be self-sufficient. I hid my fear and shared the delights of the insect world.
And in doing that I created a brave space for myself.
All three of my children have a healthy respect for insects, but not a fear, and for this I am satisfied with my performance.
I came closer to the spider on the fern. Taking photographs and filming. I could see it busily spinning. Then all of a sudden it launched itself into the air.
The spinning had been an invisible line between the spider and myself and now it was abseiling across the gulf at a tremendous speed towards me.
I blew gently, but firmly, and the spider was sent back to the ferns.
I checked to make sure they landed safely.
And then realised that my blowing had been instinctual, rooted in that fear that I have been trying to overcome.
What did it matter that the spider landed on me?
The spider had been brave enough to trust me, to hitch a ride, and I did not reciprocate. Not brave enough… yet.
Strangeness is often connected to fear. The “Different” are kept at arm's length to keep us safe until we know better, but seldom are the steps taken to “know better”.
“We” talk about creating safe spaces, but maybe this is contributing to othering?
Maybe what we really need is brave spaces, so that “we” can overcome fears to break down the facade of bias that prevents us from seeing the true stories, the multiple, entangled stories of life.
There is a need to learn how to be able to see the web all the time, even when it is invisible to the eye, to know it is there, to not forget. And to be open to see webs in their full spectrum, and not just from our own perspective.
And sometimes, if the angle is right, the threads of the spider web reflect the colours within the sun's light.
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