The tangled webs we weave

For a few weeks this summer an industrious spider wove a nightly web that connected a bush on one side of the walkway to the back door on the other side. That meant every morning I had to destroy its work in order to get to my car. Finally it tired of that routine and traveled the length of the house to the front stoop, where it connected both railings, which again blocked my way. That spider’s daily work got me thinking about the threads that we send out and the threads that are sent our way. Those threads, those webs, connect us to people and things and often define where the control of our lives rests.

Some of the threads are actually strong sturdy ropes, steadying our feet and our view of the world, but with enough elasticity that grounds rather than confines us. Others are single threads, sometimes tiny and tenuous. Other threads may fray, never to be darned or repaired, or, if and when rewoven, can be stronger than the initial tie. Many have a push/pull tension, as both ends vie for control or when one side wants the connection to be stronger than it needs or should be. A few are burdensome and take attention away from ones where we would like to spend more energy. Some we’ve allowed to attach themselves to us willingly, knowingly. Others, not so much. And, it’s not just people. We sign mortgages, car leases, credit cards, student loan papers. We’ve allowed electronics into our web. We pursue passions, hobbies and windmills. 

In our seven degrees of separation world, it is prudent to take an occasional inventory of all the webs of which we are a part. To evaluate the tension, even the necessity or desirability of each thread. We can sever some, lessen the control on a few to make room for new outreach or to be available to new threads sent our way. It may be time for us to do that as we head into autumn. Perhaps like some trees, we can add color or let some connections fly away.

Marilyn