Indigenous cultures used signs and symbols as a way to navigate the world and weave meaning into life’s ever-changing narratives. From freakish storms to animal visitors to accidents and pieces of broken pottery, events were never random. They offered potential explanations, guidance and sometimes even warnings.
Interpreting life through random signs may feel a bit archaic and silly, especially in our digitally-distracted, info-centric, Google-obsessed world. But this lost art form has legit advantages: it gets you out of linear, repetitive thinking, taps into your intuition and at a bare minimum, ignites the imagination (something most of us could use a little more of).
Enter Spider Woman (not the superhero-- the multi-legged, crawling kind).
Today is the full moon eclipse, which spiritual and astrology-types associate with the sacred feminine, our creation impulse and the deep dive into those dark emotional spaces we’ll do anything to avoid. How fitting then, this long-legged beauty crawls up beside me, an ancient symbol of feminine energy herself, offering a potent web of lore in which to view my life. Here are Spider Woman’s lessons, from that place where possibility, personal cosmology and real-life intermingle:
FEAR: When I first saw Spider Woman (a name I gave her after seeing spiderlings nearby), I became anxious. She was kind of thick. Maybe she was venomous or could fly across the porch to land on my neck and bite me. I pondered going back inside, abandoning my daily habit of writing in the crisp, unfolding morning.
Experiment: I pulled my chair close beside her and stayed there several hours. She stretched those spiny legs, maneuvering slowly, without any apparent destination. Pretty soon, I noticed she didn’t look so intimidating. In fact, she wasn’t even that big and seemed quite disinterested in my presence.
Creative Symbolism: What else in my life do I fear and refuse to look at— distancing myself or walking away from entirely? What might happen if I quietly sat with it, looking honestly without judgment or expectation and becoming familiar with why it threatens me? Would I really need to run or might I realize, similar to the spider, it wasn’t that scary after all?
BROKEN WEBS: In ancient mythology, the spider is known as the weaver of worlds and the creator of the web of life around her. Just this last weekend, I’d broken my own family web in taking a stand against a long-held injustice, instead of donning the superficial smile and pretending all was fine.
Experiment: I contemplated my role in creating the texture of my relationships, with their sometimes-tenuous strings and abandoned lifelines. I saw all the ways I’d compromised, loosened or ignored situations that were threatening to my own wellbeing or to others.
Creative Symbolism: What parts of my web are still broken or in need of repair? Whom have I enmeshed and are the strings that connect us strong as steel or as thin as a thread? Spider reminds us, we are responsible for the webs we weave, the people we directly connect to and the quality of those relationships. Sometimes connections need to be broken for our greater health and sanity. If one or two connections are broken from the web, it won’t make an impact. But with a lot of broken connections, the web collapses along with its creator.
REGENERATION: It wasn’t until I stood beside Spider Woman, that I noticed she only had 7 legs. Spiders typically have eight. One was missing, yet she ambled with ease, not remotely bothered by her missing appendage. Spiders have the ability to regrow legs and although they sprout a little shorter and a tad thinner, they’re lives are relatively unaffected.
Experiment: I was reminded of our struggles and what we suffer along the way. We lose heart, we lose limbs, we even sometimes lose ourselves in battles of love, honor and justice. I wrote down the biggest loses I’ve encountered in this last year and looked for any signs of growth-- within myself and in my life-- however small and thin and seemingly insignificant.
Creative Symbolism: Like the spider, we continue to move forward, even if we’ve been a hot mess, shell-shocked and battle-weary. We're still in tact. Sometimes when we lose something, we find strength in other parts of ourselves we didn’t know we had. In what situations did I learn I could survive and even thrive regardless?
CURIOSITY: The last lesson this spider teacher imparted is about curiosity. As kids we are always curious. We poke at frogs, scoop up tadpoles, catch lightning bugs and eat mud pies (or at least that’s what my siblings made me do). Cultural Anthropologist Angeles Arrien used to say that whenever people were sick in Oceanic societies, they’d be asked, “When in your life did you stop being enchanted by stories, especially your own story?” Isn’t life one big story and a million little ones along the way?
Experiment: I did what I never imagined I could: I leaned down and gently touched the spider’s back leg. She barely moved. I giggled. It was like being 6-years-old again. I touched her front leg the next time. She retracted slightly, in a ‘Come on, this is getting old’ kind of way. But the mission had been accomplished. I sat down rather pleased with myself and realized I was quite fond of this spider now! My storyline had a new ending.
Creative Symbolism: In what parts of my life have I lost that sense of curiosity and wonder? Was I viewing my career, my boyfriend and even my spiritual exploration with stale perspective? What might happen if, instead of the same old approaches, I were to look through fresh eyes? What wonders might I find? What surprises might I uncover?