This morning as I pushed open a gate outside it resisted my efforts. I looked and could see nothing in the way of its opening. As I pushed further and was able to open it I saw that what had been stopping it was a spider web.
It’s true that at this time of year the webs seem denser, more opaque or this particular spider is more visible to me now. This web’s many strands tightened into a rope that connected the gate to its frame and I am reminded of how strong a few silken threads can be. How strong we are and how connected.
What any one of us tries to break inside or outside of ourselves, to separate ourself from another being, a passion, an idea once held reminds me of a sign I almost always see in print shops of a figure laughing, arms flapping, feet over their head in a backward arc of hilarity – “you wanted that when?!”
I tend to rush in to an event, an idea, a body of water and I get stopped immediately by its “itness,” what makes it what it is. Obvious in the case of the ocean, more easily overridden in an animal or child. But as important. We are all oceans waiting to be entered, waiting for understanding and love, we are wanting to trust, to savor, to harbor. It can be difficult to be open, to love ourselves unconditionally, to let our hands fall softly where we are afraid to go.