the things the universe reveals to me when i am in water
during yester-eve's late night steamy soak with new bubbles (thanks jenn!), i had an interesting encounter with a baby spider.
as a child, i hated and killed any creepy crawly in my path. growing up in the high desert of southern california, there were many roaches in my childhood. i remember turning the light on in the bathroom at night and hearing two or three scatter to the baseboards.
i was not fascinated by bugs. i was not one of those girls in dirt and overalls and contentment. instead i insisted on a daily wearing of my favorite pair of bumble-bee tights (see below) and pranced around in all my girlishness. (i did, however, freakisly love and persue rolly-pollys).
as a child, i hated and killed any creepy crawly in my path. growing up in the high desert of southern california, there were many roaches in my childhood. i remember turning the light on in the bathroom at night and hearing two or three scatter to the baseboards.
i was not fascinated by bugs. i was not one of those girls in dirt and overalls and contentment. instead i insisted on a daily wearing of my favorite pair of bumble-bee tights (see below) and pranced around in all my girlishness. (i did, however, freakisly love and persue rolly-pollys).
as i grew into the lady you see now, i found - as many of you know- that my child inside was not fully-developed. as i worked on allowing my innocence, naivety, dependence on others, and embracing of the not-so-serious-all-the-time, i found myself growing more and more fond of nature and living things. this was the most happy accident i have yet encountered in my brief 30 years.
for instance, in the last five years, my eyes have been glued to the sky in pursuit of my feathered friends - learning all about their habits, sounds, distinctions, and environments. In the natural wake of this hobby, I have also come to notice trees and all things green.
So when I was camping, Kelly shooed out a little shrew from the bathroom, and I was so relieved b/c I thought for a second that the little guy wouldn't make it. He was soo scared. Also when I was camping, I killed a mosquito, and I felt so strangely bad about the vehemence with which I slammed his body up against the bathroom wall. I realize that this insect sucks human blood, but still - I am all of a sudden MUCH TOO SENSITIVE to the living. I mean, who am I to end something else's life, especially if it presents no direct threat to me?
So last night, as my bathtub fills with hot water (did you know I must be IN the bath as it's filling? I have found this to be helpful in the acclamation (joel says scalding) of my skin to the heated water) I notice this sad little spider climbing for dear life out of the tub, but he keeps slipping in the water.
Before I know what I am doing, I put my finger out for the spider to perch on and assist it up the wall. As I was thinking later of that spider, which was still quite visibly freaked out, I wondered if there is anything in insect psychology about post traumatic stress disorder because if you were a creature 6mm in size and this huge fleshy branch thing was flying at you, lifted you out of the slippery abyss of porcelain and set you gently on the top of the abyss again, you would probably be BEYOND therapy.
Will this spider recover? Will it always fear the color of my flesh? Will it be strange and withdrawn from his spidey friends? Will they all talk about him and tisk in shame at the sad digression of his life, "Isn't it so sad what happened to Gaspard?....such a waste, he used to have so much potential...oh, his poor parents."
What's it like to be a spider?
These are the thoughts
the water graciously brings me.
the water graciously brings me.
The thoughts of a child.
IN OTHER NEWS:
19. A great new book from Dad that he recommended and I am eager to read. Forgot the name, though.
20. An amazing bday meal from mom, wherein we had a cheese plate by the orchard, then moved to the deck where we gazed at the fountain and nasturshim blooming, and then ate a fabulous meal followed by an ice-cream cake to die for...thanks momma!
21. A fabulous gift card to the NEW H&M that just opened in Seattle from my Julie and Tim (along with promises of cocktails if I go shopping WITH them...well, if you HAVE to pull my chain, i guess....). I am excited to have an excuse to get down to the new store.
22. Brian and Jennifer gave me an original designed shirt by Brian that made me weep. I mean it. I was sobbing. That freaking guy took a photograph of John Steinbeck and drew it out to be silk screened - and then put a dialogue cloud above him to say "timshol." This gift penetrated my soul in the most ferocious and acute way - and I felt so known and understood (two emotions I have long since lost my acquaintance with) by the gesture that I could not believe it. I love it dearly and will be photographing it shortly here for you. He is selling them here in his etsy shop.
My PB & J calls me (what are you eating for lunch?)
~crm
~crm
12 comments:
Poor little Gaspard...I wonder what comfort foods he might indulge in order to salve his anxiety.
My dearest Gaspard,
I pray you know the blessing of your life, for you are privvy to a incomparable gift. In your desperate hour, a women who shirks from naked encounters rose in courage to your aid.
She not only faced the fact of her flesh before you, but overcame the casual repulsion of an adult to an insect. More than this, she let her child reach for you and enjoy the tickle of your many legs on her fingers.
I know you to be wise beyond your years, Gaspard, though I have not yet had the pleasure of your company. For many, including myself, who may think themselves wise have rejected the aid of this precious lady. Well done, sir.
May your years be long and without worry. Please repay this gracious act in kind by not harming our beloved friend: do not startle her, tangle in her hair or lay eggs in her favorite book.
If ever we meet, I pray thee, tell me your story and we shall soak in the reverie of being loved and cared for by such a lady.
Warmest Regards,
Rollie Pollie
Oh jeez, just when I was going to come in here and tell you how amused I was at the spider story, you turn on me. Well fine, see if I care. I'm coming over there tonight and smashing Gaspard against the side of a Moore book!
You are going to give people the wrong impression of me, you know. That will be on your conscience...
I'm with bc on the spider bashing.
The sad thing about living in the hot Arizona desert is that my little Tyler will never know the joy of collecting roly polies. I had a tricycle with a special basket just for polies.
Until... one fateful day I collected one too many. I stuck my hand in the basket and was completely terror-stricken to find my hand completely covered and they were making my way up my arm. I was three when this happened and I remember it vividly.
I never touched them after that (or any bug for that matter). I do have a little praying mantis that lives in my kitchen though. I figure letting him live is good karma (and it's too funny to watch him do his little rocking walk).
Maybe I am connecting with my inner child as well.
Ah yes.
The bugs posts of late quite make me want to slather on a pair of frilly socks.
Might it be possible, just possible, that Gaspard wandered home in a daze, white faced at his near fatal slip and poured a stiff glass of whiskey while trying to comprehend what happened to him. And maybe, just maybe, before the glass was half-consumed, little Gaspard realized that he had been spared from a watery death because he was not yet finished in this life. And perhaps, just perhaps, Gaspard found that there is some goodness in this life where you least expect it, and no matter what happens next for him, he will live with the knowledge that he was loved, if only for a moment.
BC~ Sorry for the gross misrepresentation. What is said while camping should stay in the woods! :)
m~ forgive me if i implied that a fascination with bugs means you are connected with your inner child - it was more meant personally - and perhaps for others it more means stomping the shit out of the rolly pollys who scared the bejezus out of you. :) i never would never imply that you are somehow insensitive for killing things.
plumes~
frilly socks, eh? show me.
umber~ ah whiskey...it is so good for those quiet moments, no? it has, on more than one occasion, helped me remember those very things. 1 - that i am not done living and 2- i am loved. (wait, are you the essence of whiskey?)
as long as I'm not that cock whiskey...
he he, no.. the cock whiskey is joel's attempt at frugal alochol while camping. it had cock in the name and boy was it nasty.
just like...well, yeah.
I LOVE Brian's shirts! And his models. And you:)
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