Wholeness: The Spider’s Webs

The other week by a giant cedar near the creek, my eye caught the outline of a spider’s web strung between the tree’s branches and a long yellow stalk several feet away. I smiled at the spider’s ingenuity in finding support for its creation, then as I stepped into the field, the sun dazzled with such brightness I was almost blinded for a few moments. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I was startled to see many small white nets draped in the matted grass across the field.

‘How marvellous,’ I thought at the sight of these illuminated tents, caught in the sun’s light. Then my practical side took over and I started counting all the webs, reaching twenty when I arrived at an alder holding a shining web with spider crouched in one of its lower branches.

I crossed the creek and headed through the back field contemplating what all this meant when the word “wholeness” arose in my mind.  The webs are created with such deft movements by the spiders, each strand carefully attached to the one before into a loose circle, the most primordial shape of the universe as in planets, stars, and galaxies. They remind us of our essential nature and where we come from—the cell that divides into another and another creating the miracle of life.

As I reached the cottage a question surfaced from these musings: What do I need to bring wholeness to now in my life? I thought of my many ongoing writing projects, and the wish arose that one I’d recently completed would find a home. ‘All in good time,’ said a voice from within.

Over the next week as I continued to notice spiders’ webs draped in the trees, over posts, and in the rhododendrons in the front yard, I realized I was being asked to bring all aspects of my life into wholeness, here on Salt Spring where I live, and also in Toronto, where I’ll be visiting family shortly. Often when I’m preparing for a trip to the city, which invariably includes events such as workshops and readings, I feel myself being stretched too thin. And it’s often at times such as these that I become sick, which happened recently. Realizing this, I made the intention to be in more balance, allowing myself what nourishes me: Walks in the forest, periods of rest throughout the day, and writing poetry, even if it’s only fifteen minutes a day. With these intentions in place I felt a sense of wholeness once again.