Creatures of Comfort

Finding creatures in your home - the good and the bad

When my sister was visiting in Idaho a few months ago, we played a little “How Well Do You Know Me?” game. I can’t remember the wording for the question that came my way, but it was something like, which is worse: spiders or snakes? My answer surprised the others.

Look, I get it. Snakes slither. Snakes are deeply embedded in our psyche as untrustworthy, deadly, cunning, and cold. My sister cannot hear the word, let alone see the creature, without a visceral response. Any image, even a symbolic representation like the Ouroboros (snake eating its tail, signifying the cycle of death and rebirth), strikes a primordial nerve.

I’m not gonna lie: if I see a snake, I freeze. I do not like the idea of snakes, despite appreciating their spiritual significance, as in renewal, transformation, and healing.

But as a kid, I played with garden snakes. They were harmless and easy to catch on Grama’s farm. I saw how freaked out my sister was and laughed. I think only when I witnessed Grama killing a blue racer (poisonous) by chopping it up with a shovel did something shift for me.

A similar shift occurred with spiders. When I was very, very young, a few months older than two, I was fascinated by daddy longlegs. They were everywhere, slow-moving, and docile. And… forget it, I can’t tell you. It was awful. My sister, undoubtedly horrified by my actions, decided one day to teach me a lesson. She doesn’t remember this so it’s more probable that it just happened without any forethought but there I was, happily sitting in the grass, looking for daddy longlegs, when suddenly my sister screeched, “LOOK OUT! THERE’S A DADDY LONGLEGS BEHIND YOU!”

That did it. I no longer even look at a daddy longlegs. Just turn away.

© greendeer

My shivers over spiders grew slowly. In my twenties, I regularly caught them inside the house and ushered them out. Then a friend had a terrible reaction to a brown recluse and landed in the hospital. (Granted, he was immune deficient but damn!) When I arrived in Idaho and seemed to always find brown recluse spiders in common places - in the sink, next to a cupboard, etc- (little boxing gloves were my clue), I stopped trying to catch and release.

But always, ALWAYS, my house rule has been this: If you see the spider, back away. The other person in the house is responsible for dealing with it. This only seems fair as the person who sees it first is a bit traumatized by the sighting. Which means, if I’m not the first to see it, well, I have to deal with it. Ok.

But this really sucks when I’m the only person home.

Like I am in Sicily.

And there’s a 3” long spider in the bathroom.

And I see it just before I go to bed.

It’s also in an impossible place to reach. So, after whining about it for a while, I closed the door, closed the next door, and the next door – four doors in total between me and the spider – and went to sleep.

Now, for context, only one hour earlier, Dario surprised me in the kitchen. Dario is easily a 7 or 8” gecko. Large.

Yes, I know geckos are a symbol of good fortune. And he’s also the first one I’ve seen in the house since my arrival. (unlike the infestation we had a few years ago: Geckos in My House) So while he’s large and surprised me, I gave him a name and let him be. The only thing that wigs me out now is that I no longer know where he is. I’d honestly prefer to see him than have him hiding.

Oh, I forgot to mention that on my fourth night here, I felt – and then found – a spider in my bed. MUCH smaller than the one currently in my bathroom. But this is exactly why spiders freak me out. They can be anywhere. And they can be harmful.

I do not want to share my bed with a spider. I do not want to be bit by a spider.

Isn’t this ultimately why we have houses? Our homes are meant to protect us.

This morning, the spider in the bathroom is still in a position where I can’t get to it. All I can do, for now, is ponder.

“Spiders are some of the most misunderstood creatures on the planet,” writes Mila Day in a post on Journeys of Life.com. Furthermore, their spiritual meaning is “the epitome of personal power,” representing “the concept of manifestation and taking control of your own destiny.”

Yes, yes, I know this. But this has a lot to do with weaving.

The spider in my bathroom does not have a web. It looks a lot like a dark fishing spider, best as I can tell, which doesn’t weave. Except those aren’t indigenous to Sicily. And this one is bigger.

Okay Peppler, dig deeper.

Brown spiders can represent “a lack of stability,” reminding us to “ground your energy and feel more connected to the world.”

Is it a coincidence that yesterday I was musing on being misunderstood? About wanting some space to be alone, not bound by cultural communal norms. About my fear that I’ll be ostracized for this or not live up to what my Sicilian neighbors expect. I can see the connection. I need to settle in and trust. Great. Got it.

Now, will the spider go away?

I just checked.

No. Probably,

most definitely,

I think not.

Any thoughts? Suggestions? A friend told me to throw water at the spider. Then it will fall and I can… well scoop it up or… ugh. I still have goosebumps. I really do not want to deal with this spider, nor do I want to hurt it. But…

UGH!!

Snakes, spiders, death and rebirth… Happy Easter, friends. Happy Spring.

Remember, always, Practice Resurrection.

The Easter Message Today, (a post from a few years ago) with a copy of Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry

excerpt:

… As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go.
Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.