There is a black spider under my work table who has been there for weeks and I can't bring myself to relocate her.
Night before last I picked out a book that's been sitting on my shelf unread for who knows how long-probably the nineties! It's called Spider Woman's Web by Susan Hazen-Hammond. It's full of short Native American tales of women reclaiming their power, but sometimes reads like a nighttime television drama.
When I began studying shamanism years ago, our circle was instructed to journey into the unconcious realms to find our power animal, one that would be the first in a series of many to help navigate through the soul's work. Most of the women got animals well revered for their wisdom and grace like the wolf, the owl, the eagle and bear. Mine was the black widow. She who eats her mate when she's finished using him for her dark purposes-that was the gist of what I knew about her then.
I've developed a rather sweet relationship with her since, wrapping my mind's image of her with long, silky threads around my wrist as the drum beats to journey off looking for whatever it is I seek answers to. When we moved to the valley, we were inundated with widows all over the property, and what I find most fascinating about her is how solitary and reclusive she is. You will not find her moseying curiously across the carpet like a common house spider or building webs in high outlooks over the dining room light. She lays low, tucked under an eave, weaving and weaving, then coming out when the lights are off to wait for her prey.
Grandmother Spider teaches us to explore our strength, vitality, creativity, and our power. She nurtures us through difficult times of the unknown. She dares us to weave our own fates, in this very moment, and to seize what we desire when it finds it's way into our web, and to be nourished by it. The web symbolizes the fertile place where our dreams can manifest, woven by our own creative intentions. Her waiting represents the patience and flexibility required to see our intentions to fruition. She exudes the quiet confidence of one who will meet her destiny with relish.
As autumn skitters toward winter, I find my thoughts mingling with the new year: New baby, no out-of-the-house job...what will my idle fingers yearn to make? I had major creative energy birthing the year Miles came to us. When he slept, I painted. I wore him in a sling so I could make journal pages while I swayed back and forth with him. I'm so curious to listen for what has been dormant in the year and a half I've been "out in the world"...like a subtle, little music that seeps out of our souls- a forgotten waltz drowned in doing...
Do tell me-
What's spinning in your corner?
