downtown spider
In December I went for a walk one day. I took Woodward and headed towards downtown. It was sunny out but brisk, and there were lots of people out and about. I think I may have been in front of The Fillmore when I noticed a large spider slowly descending a strand of silk, right in the middle of the sidewalk, at about eye level. I was surprised by this, both because it was cold out, and because you don’t usually see spiders in the middle of concrete jungles. I stood there watching it until it got nearly to the ground. The poor thing had no idea it was descending into a no-spider zone. Certainly, out of the next few groups of people to walk by, one of them would have smashed it, if not purposely then accidentally. I put my hand into the path of the strand and caught it, and sensing this, it started climbing back up. I held it next to the nearest wall until it caught its footing there, released its strand, and began to climb. That was the best I could do.
I remembered that just now because I'm listening to ambient music, and it has me feeling the same way I felt the day I took that walk: like the music was everywhere, emanating from every person, every thing, drowning out all feelings of conflict and uniting all in a heavenly harmony. That day, like the spider, we were all descending from strands of silk, not knowing where we would land. As if we had come from some higher place, to see what is down here, in this world. And the Sun was glistening on the people's faces the same way it was glistening on the buildings.
~
2022