Spiders
Photo by Sankax, Flickr
The Dream
I just moved to a new rental on Friday. An adorable little house I’d been dreaming of every day for weeks. In my mind I knew what it looked like, what it felt like, the way the light would stream in, the kind of windows and floors it would have, where in town it would be located and on what kind of street, how much it would cost. I knew it would be an extremely rare find – one might even say my criteria was unreasonable given the reality of this town’s rental market – but I thought if I just imagine it hard enough, it would appear.
And appear it did, one unsuspecting moment on Craigslist. And it was exactly what I wanted. It was perfect.
So I moved in Friday, to this charming little carriage house with cathedral wood ceilings and exposed wood beams and wideboard honey-colored wood floors and tons of windows, set on a residential street in the perfect neighborhood, on a gorgeous property of sprawling gardens. Everything I wanted, and in my price range!
Am I a Master Manifester or what? “I mean really!” I thought as I giddily carried my bags from the moving truck into the house. “Who is as powerful as I am, dreaming up their perfect place and watching it appear like magic?” Me and the universe, we’re tight. Ask and I shall receive. That’s right.
Except I didn’t ask to receive the spiders.
The Spiders
Yes, my magically manifested dream house is freakin’ full of spiders. Everywhere I look, spiders. Different sizes, different personalities. Corners, floorboards, and the bold who dare saunter unafraid into the middle of a barren floor, as if to say, “What you lookin’ at? You got a problem?”
Oh yes, yes I do, I have a very big problem. Because you see, I am bugphobic, and particularly opposed to spiders. Morally and politically opposed. There is something deep inside me that stirs with repugnance and fear at the sight of one of these eight-legged hellions walking awkwardly with their thinner-than-a-pin legs that bend in a way that shouldn’t be legal and their ugly, dense little circle bodies, or worse, the way they sit there in their webs, strung from ceilings or in corners, waiting around like the creepy little killers they are.
The Knot
This is my third night here, and for three nights and three days, I have been walking around with this knot in my chest, jumping every time I think I feel something crawling on me or moving in the periphery. I know what you’re thinking. That’s no way to live, right? Exactly! So this morning I woke up determined to take a full breath and relax into this beautiful space I had dreamed into existence, spiders be damned. And I did! … For a good fifteen minutes after waking.
But then, I was buttering a piece of gluten-free toast for my daughter and a HUGE spider appears as if from nowhere and just trots across the counter, the clean, sanitary kitchen counter, heading right toward the toast, veering left just before he arrives at the plate and continuing on to the edge of the counter and underneath, where he disappears as quickly as he appeared. I mean really! What is that? Could you live like that? Because I can’t live like that.
The Teachers
And it was in that moment – that instant of absolute incredulous disgust, that I got that these damned spiders MUST be my teachers, because the experience I was having was too intense to be irrelevant. Don’t get me wrong – this is not some la di da corny happy ending where me and the spiders live happily ever after in harmony. I’m still considering moving out, and I’ll probably sleep with one eye open tonight.
But here’s the thing – I’ve built my entire life around one singular purpose – being at my best no matter what is happening and helping others to do the same. No matter what. No matter what the symptoms. No matter how many spiders. Despite the anxiety. Despite the fear. In fact, FUCK the fear. How am I when there is NO fear? That’s the state I’ve dedicated my life to cultivating, and the one fundamental aspect of the work I do with my clients.
The Conclusion
So here I am thinking I have manifested a cute little house, my own little slice of heaven, but maybe what I’ve manifested is what I really needed – which just happens to be more akin to hell, but another opportunity to free myself of fear, to explore yet another place where I have been limited in my ability to be okay, centered, and at my best, and to go deeper and learn how to hold this state even amidst the spiders, those hideous octamonsters hanging from the ceilings and creeping out, three and four legs at a time, from the floors.
Maybe the spiders are my teachers, like MS is my teacher, like your illness is your teacher. And it’s scary, and it’s awful, and there’s a knot in our chest, and we need to really make a major effort to take a full, diaphragmatic breath, drop our shoulders, soften our eyes and decide to be okay. And maybe it would just be a hell of a lot easier and more comfortable and more convenient to just be in a house without spiders, but I have found myself here, and so the question becomes, am I going to be a victim, or am I going to take control?
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Yep, we get what we need (whew) in addition do what we are so intent on creating exactly like we want it rather than asking and allowing the Divine or however we think of it to bring what is right and perfect for us and at the perfect time.
I rarely talk about this because for me it was quite easy to create, but not always easy to handle the result. The this or something better or as Al Diaz says, “Allowing and Being All That is for my best and highest good” is working better for me and exceeding my wildest dreams!
Regardless, we get what we need and if we don’t or can’t handle it now, it’s guaranteed we will get another chance, if not this time around, another lifetime or whatever.
I do believe that when what we need shows up, we are given what we need to meet it, but I have to admit, 2 days ago I couldn’t or didn’t and am working on getting stronger and clearer so the next time I will be free of that. I need to let go and trust the Divine more. To leap into that void…….
Since you have shared your experience with me , it is now part of mine and I will clean on what it going on in me that I have experience this and we both can be clear.
Thank you for sharing this, Karen. I am grateful.
Love you,
Jimmy
Well, I cleaned and for me, would call our local pest control expert that we know well.
thank you jimmy and kiela for your thoughtful comments – much appreciated. i am fortunate to have a very sweet seven-year-old boy in my life who volunteered today to act as a humane exterminator, going from corner to corner of my house and gently scooping up the spiders and placing them outside. he said “i’m only doing this because i don’t want you to kill them!”
“A Little Child Shall Lead Them”
haha, yes, absolutely. i stand in profound reverence to what that child and my daughter gwendolyn have taught me.
Yo. Great post. And thank you for making that point. I mean that’s the real deal, right? Once you experience the extraordinary results and relief of real stillness, there’s no luxury in not putting that above all else: even the things we like to freak us out: break-ups, the tax man, power struggles, politics, our kids’s success, and creepy-crawlies! You know something that I did that worked for me, was starting to name them. At first, I chose magical, mystical names: Kaliope, Odin, Xerxes, and even God. These kept me in awe and (my brand of irreverent) respect. Then I had a similar experience to the one you described in this post where the spider just made a really clumsy cameo. It was then that I realized that all spiders are not created equal. Some are not cool, stealthy, masked marauders, tryng like hell to sneak up and scare the girlie-scream outta me. Some of them are dorky. Lame. Drunk. Annoying. Pompous> Assholes. That’s right. Some of them stupidly prance out into the middle of the wall like, “Oooh! Look at me!!!! I’m a huge fucking-ugly arachnid! I spent the last two weeks growing the hair on my legs. And now I’m tough! Yeah! Big Ugly Harry! That’s me!” Now what comes up for me is that this little exoskeleton-toting terdling has just made a series of fatal errors. First and not least of which is that Mr. Big Shot (Who do You think you Are???) just landed his dumb butt in a house with 4 cats for whom spiders are but passive rehearsal for the real shit: chipmunks. So, dude, you’re going down. But that’s just if they get to you first. That’s right, I have also taken up the art of The Choice. I am judge, jury, and executioner in the parish of my house. And I discriminate. If I like you and you haven’t offended me too greatly, the chances that i will gather you in a glass, slide a piece of paper expertly under your eight and eject you into the woods behind my house, are good. But, if I am feeling at all feisty, and you happen to march your dumb ass onto my desk while I’m working or stupidly galavant across my arm or if you’re anywhere at all near my bed. It’s over. You might meet a flying shell-top sneaker, or a folded-in-half issue of Wired Magazine, or the 1/2 cup measuring cup. Really anything will do, and I have my favorites. Important considerations are gut-splatter and escape pattern. In relation to gut=splatter a quick calculation of the impact of a bludgeon death on your wall with a copy of The Norton Anthology of African American LIterature, for instance will yield a mess that can be tedious if not gross to recover from. Many finishes of paint are not spider-gut friendly, making this a less than ideal choice. I would recommend using the pages-side of the book in a light fanning motion to gently knock the offender to the floor and then drop the Anthology from about 3 feet on him. This will yield a satisfying thud and certainly provide with enough WOMP to do the job. I mean, we want it to be quick, right? We’re not cats!
Just wanted to say … what a beautiful post, Karen.