Physically Distanced but Spiritually Connected
Witness of the Webs

Dear Mayfield,
Early yesterday morning when I was getting ready to leave home for my daily walk, my neighbor Laura and her dog Bandit were returning from their first walk of the day.  She smiled as she told me that the lakefront isn’t officially open yet, but the barriers are down, a few of the boats have returned, and we can finally get to the lake. Not being able to relate to the lake the last three months has been one of the harder aspects of pandemic limitations for me. I was thrilled we had crossed paths before I set out to walk.  For the first time in months I walked east. I can get under Lakeshore Drive in just a couple of minutes, but I have to walk around a large piece of Belmont Harbor to actually reach the lakeshore. A wrought iron fence encircles the harbor, and right now it is encrusted with miles and miles of spider webs. There are so many of them that they made me think of the vines that grew tall covering the castle where Sleeping Beauty and everyone else slept for lo those many years. In the absence of runners, walkers, bikers, parents and small children, and all the dogs since late March, the spiders have thrived undisturbed. I framed picture after picture on my phone and marveled at what had appeared while we were away.

In addition to Sleeping Beauty, I thought about two Christmas legends involving spiders. The first takes place when Jesus, Joseph, and Mary were in flight from murderous Herod on their way to Egypt.  As the story goes, they took shelter in a cave for the night.  After they were settled, a spider spun an intricate web across the mouth of the cave.  There were soldiers out on the road looking for them.  When they came to the cave, they saw an intact web and assumed the web would be broken if anyone was spending the night there and didn’t bother to check the cave. The spider’s web offered protection for a family on the run.  Looking at web after web, I thought about the many pictures we have seen during the pandemic of wildlife, skies, and seas that are in better shape, that are more protected than they have been in the midst of our usual level of activity.  It is our choice now to consider what our new patterns of activity will be and their potential impact on this planet we share.

The second legend is an old European tale. It is the story of an elderly woman cleaning and decorating her home for Christmas.An attentive housekeeper, she leaves the spider webs where they are high in the eves.  As the story goes, after she falls asleep, the spiders drop down from their webs and spin filaments all over her tree that turn into beautiful silver threads.  Some say those threads are the origin of the tinsel or icicles that are used to decorate holiday trees. This story expresses a simple mutuality of gifting one another with life and beauty. While we continue to live in these pandemic days, there are changes in our way of being part of the web of life that could make it possible across species for us to more richly bless and gift one another.

The webs were a stunning surprise as I recently regained access to the lake. In a few days they will all be gone as activity picks up and routine maintenance of city green spaces resumes. My handful of pictures remind me they were there to greet us. The witness of the webs quietly might awaken us to a life of different rhythms on this earth we cohabit with many others.
Peace, Martha