Baby Spiders

A few days ago, I evicted a very large hairy spider from the bathroom and house.  

I have arachnophobia but I've worked at controlling it because, I know that spiders eat a lot of insects and because I felt that it was fundamentally blasphemous.  To be afraid of something so much smaller than myself and something that, in most cases, can't really do me any real harm, is, more or less, accepting the thoughts that I'm weak, that it is bad, both thoughts contrary to my faith in creation and my upbringing as a Christian (which upbringing I have largely moved away from).  Also, killing is not, to me, an acceptable first response, to anything.

In fact, I quite admire spiders like the wolf spider which is a wonderful mother.  Those are her babies on her back in the photo below.

Years ago, in California, I was clearing weeds and kept thinking I saw movement to my left and behind me, in my periphery.  I kept stopping to look and didn't see anything, until...there she was, about the size of a quarter, loaded down with maybe 20-50 babies.  I watched her for about 20 minutes.  She was transporting her brood.  Every once in a while one or a few would fall off her back and she'd stop, turn slightly and wait for them to climb back on.  While wolf spiders can be quite quick (they're hunters, not web builders; they go after their prey.) it took her quite a while to cross what had been a driveway, then overgrown.  I watched her and let her go.

Today I had to kill the remaining baby spiders in our bathroom because, if they were allowed to remain in the house, they would grow up the size of their mother, who I'd evicted.  I'm guessing that their bite would not be pleasant.  These spiders, which might be very large wolf spiders, are much, much larger than a quarter.  They're very intimidating but not aggressive, as most spiders, even the wolf, are not.

The day after I'd evicted the mother, I discovered that she'd left an egg sack that had opened and dozens of baby spiders were there waiting for her.  I sucked up many dozen babies and evicted them as well.  I also sucked up many babies and threw them in the canal where they will most likely be drowned or eaten by fish and I finally flushed a couple of dozen of them.

I noticed later there were more, in the same place, probably waiting to be carried elsewhere by their mother.  Many had undoubtedly gotten away into cracks and later emerged.  Today, I killed more, squashed them and flushed them down the toilet.  Some of them hung on a strand of nest web and dropped on the floor.  I squashed them.  As I squashed them, I began to cry, for the tiny baby spiders I was killing; alive only a few days.  

Am I silly?  Am I crazy?  Some would say so.  I don't care.  It hurt me to think of them as babies, so tiny, so delicate.  And, I didn't make them.  They have a purpose with which is it not mine to interfere.  But, they were in my space.  They will grow to a very large size.  They bite.  There were dozens of them.  I have myself to think about.  But, I cried.  Why is this world this way; that I have to kill them to feel safe?

And, yet, I remembered myself, brought my attention back to myself, with these questions remaining but the emotional impact reduced and some degree of separation with the part of me wrapped up in this drama and another wondering.  What's done is done, or maybe not; I might have to kill more as they emerge from their hiding places.  What is, is.

My Inner World

From the time we're born, apparently, our attention is drawn outward to the world in which we live, for food, for pleasure, to fulfill obligations, for love and affection.  But, the world inside our skin, inside our minds, inside our emotions, inside our bodies is as vast and interesting as that outside our skin; and largely unexplored.

What is this attraction always away from myself?  Why is it so easy to forget to make the small effort necessary to sit with myself for a few minutes in the morning; to bring my attention back to my self and my inner world?  I've been given a practice.  I identify with the practice; and yet, I clearly prefer to disappear in all of the attractions outside myself.

Yes, disappear.  There can be days between the moments when I remember I exist and have a clear sensation of being inside my own skin in whatever time and place and circumstance.  Having experiences those moments, I know that I don't truly exist outside of those moments when I'm standing inside my own skin.  Without the wish to be there, I'm not actually typing as I am now, typing is simply taking place, often my mind is elsewhere.  I know that it's possible to drive from point A to point B and not be there in any moment during the drive.

The wish to be present is there but is often buried beneath habitual activities, thoughts and reactions; I'm usually gone; asleep.  What can I find to help me remember the wish?

Within and Without

It seems to me, at this moment, although I could be mistaken, that a balance between the struggle to improve the outward circumstances of my situation and my inner responses to my situation is something to strive for.  It's seems to me, at this moment, a better use of my limited energy would be to understand my various responses to my situation and how those responses affect me and, perhaps, my situation.

and

Perhaps, if I am unable to find any sensation of my physical presence at any particular moment, then, I am taken by, identified with, whatever is happening around me; what will be will be.

But, just the question of whether or not I'm able to sense some part of my body, brings some sensation and some detachment from the circumstances of my situation; if only for seconds; what will be will be and, for those seconds, I AM in the midst of what is.

Help from above?

I'm having a bad day.  My financial situation is getting more difficult.  Today, I had to speak, on the phone, with a representative of the bank that holds my mortgage.  I'm in default on my mortgage several months.  At the end of the conversation, I was hurt, depressed humiliated and frightened.  I feel that the bank, in its focus on its own interests, has no concern for my welfare and will think nothing of destroying what's left of my life in order to squeeze the last penny from me that they can get.  I don't have much left.

Despite that, I found myself, from time to time, throughout the day, between phone calls and attempted faxes and minor errands, returning to a sense of myself in the midst of all these racing thoughts and frantic emotions, questioning how to look at the mess.  Certainly I feel in prison, but not in the spiritual sense I usually think of it.  In my current situation, I feel imprisoned by the bank and by our society's focus on money.  It makes me very angry and I want to run away.

Yet again I return to sensations of myself, my body, my racing thoughts, constriction in my chest from anxiety, reaction after reaction, reaction to reaction, trying to find a way through; a way back to a comfortable sleep.  But, what about me?  Certainly, I am caught in this mess, feeling that I'm serving a corporation, but this is the world we live in.  What about me?

How can I look at this mess in a way that shows me something about my inner world as well as the world we all live in?  Mostly I see reactions.  In the instances I remember myself, I try to draw my attention inwardly, some of that is automatically dissipated; I'm separate from the situation; more free.  It all comes flooding back and I'm taken by the thoughts and reactions again.  That's my inner situation.  I don't see myself being taken; I only see myself in the seconds when I remember myself again.  I don't know what reminds me to try to be present.  I don't know what is able to make that effort once I remember.  I'm dependent on these accidental moments.

At one point, I was speaking with the lawyer on the phone.  She's not a counselor, she's a lawyer but I needed somebody to talk to.  I'm afraid of what can befall me.  She said that the bank is simply collecting information about my situation to make a business decision about what they can expect to recoup from me.  On my end it's very personal; not so on their end.  I know I'm going to be hurt in many ways; they're neither intending nor interested in that one way or another.  It was very helpful to hear that.  It settled my head a little, calmed me, the bank, the world is indifferent to me; to my plight.  I am the only entity interested in me.  But what me in the mids of it?  Who am I?  How am I?

Some believe that everything happens for a reason.  I think almost everything is accidental, haphazard.  Some believe that we are given what we need when we need it.  I believe that almost everything is accidental, haphazard.  Some people believe that some of us are looked after by something larger than ourselves.

I believe that something inside myself knows how to make use of whatever circumstances present themselves.  Something knew to hear what the lawyer said and to find myself and separate from my thoughts and reactions to the situation.  I believe it's something we're all given at birth but often gets buried beneath years of accidental misperceptions, miscommunications, miseducation and more.  Whatever that or those intelligences are within ourselves needs to be seen, grown, educated; they don't grow on their own; our educational systems don't feed them.  Something inside myself knows how to be.  It's what I've learned I actually pray to.  It's what I pray for.  I need to give it more attention.  I need to know myself more; to BE more.

Mind and Heart So Full

The Psychology of Man's Possible Evolution but is it psychology that's needed?  Sometimes I think it's mechanics.  I am mostly mechanical.  Even learning to walk seems to be a process of "training" muscles to pull myself up to a standing position, then sensing feet, legs, knees, hips; trying something, some movement, sensing what that feels like while seeing the result, whether falling down or actual movement in the direction desired.  Once the movement of feet and legs seem to be in the desired direction the mind desires, the physical parts retain the memory of how that is accomplished and walking becomes automatic.

Most of my parts, my fragments, my Is are mechanical, trained by parents, teachers, and, I imagine, a multitude of stimulus of many kinds, over years.  Movements, thoughts, "feelings" happen automatically.  I -- whichever I happens to be present -- am, most often, unaware of most of these automatically events withing myself and how they manifest in the world, to other people.  

My head maintains a few versions and images of myself that seem to turn in an endless, inner, random slide show about who and what I am.  But --

Erica Maxine 2009

Once in a while, something, some part of me appears that has some awareness of the fragmentation, of other possibilities, with a desire to collect the parts into a cohesive whole.

I find I want to catalog and classify parts, which are interested, which are not, which are strong, which are weak, which can be 'trained', which can be ignored.  I don't know if this is a useful direction.

I've been noticing the differences in how various writers express the ideas.  I find it helpful to read different writers on the same topic.  Different writers, their style of expression resonate differently in me.

I'm reading Laura's book.

I'm reading Jean Vaysse's Toward Awakening.

Being Human

The heartache that is sometimes part of being human, if we accept it, feel it in our mind, in our emotions, in our body, can open a space in which we can experience our connection with everything that is, including that heartache.

Note:  art found online, credit will be given when credit is claimed or image removed on request.