Weaving the Web of Life

Weaving the Web of Life The other day I had one of "Those Days" - the kind of day that continually proves that I certainly should not have gotten out of bed. It took me seemingly endless hours to get myself ready and going. I burned my finger. I spilled my milk. I argued with my daughter the entire time and it took close to an hour to drive to work - or so it seemed. I was groaning. I was terribly, terribly irritated. I was frowning. And I wanted to go back to bed. Then, finally! I got to work. Lo, and behold... No parking! Yes, I definitely should have stayed in bed. Trudging from my parking place - miles from my final destination - dragging my bag, my purse and my chin, I grumbled and growled at how unfair my day had been thus far. I was now worse than terribly, terribly irritated. I had upped the ante to "infuriated" and, at that moment, could have participated in my own personal version of "Gnashing and Wailing," had I known exactly what that meant. At our building's entryway, there are two matching evergreen shrubs, standing side by side as sentinels. They are not substantial in size or in looks, but they caught my attention this day. Since I was in the red haze of ire, it took several moments for me to realize that something out of the ordinary was going on. I stood silent and still, waiting for the realization to dawn. It came slowly, but fiercely. There, betwixt the pinnacles of those pines, was the most perfect, flawlessly symmetrical web. The web - which was about the same diameter of the center of a roll of masking tape - had impeccably spaced rings and was suspended by four fragile strands that glistened like strings of diamonds. In the very center, perched proudly, was a brilliant yellow spider, about half the size of a ladybug. The masterpiece, I imagine, was quite a time consuming project for the little arachnid. The size alone - although diminutive and inconsequential in the human world - was impressive, indeed, compared to the size of the creator. Its exactness was awe inspiring and the fact that it appeared to have been done with effortless grace took my breath away. And it was then that I realized it... It doesn't matter how bad the day starts out. What matters is what I do with the rest of it. Do I build that beautiful web and complete it proudly? Or do I fall apart and stomp and throw a fit when I cannot get that first spiral to lay "just so" or when one of the four silky supporting strands refuses to stay in place? Or do I just keep weaving? In the beginning, it is difficult to imagine the outcome. Or maybe you can see the end result in your mind's eye and want to be there NOW! However, no matter how horrible the beginning is, with patience (a virtue that I find myself to be lacking most of the time) and with persistence, your weave will produce an exquisite product. And then you can perch, in the very center, and admire the beauty that surrounds you. And know that YOU did it! The result will be an inspiration for those that have the breathless moment of wonderment and admiration as they stop before the sentinels to gaze upon your display of perfection. Keep weaving! © Angie K. Millgate 7/2003