I parked a chair next to the screen door of the porch, where I could have a birds eye vantage of the heavy rain. When I spending time at the river, I love to spend time each morning meditating, and sometimes that takes the form of simply sitting, looking out over the creek and river, and letting my eyes settle on some part of the natural world. The morning was heavily overcast, and I could feel the rain in the air, even though it had not fallen for several hours. Now it began in earnest.
Watching the drops hit the surface of the creek, and bouncing off of the deck railing had a mesmerizing effect. Each drop was the same, and yet somehow different, with a seeming life of its own. Connection, uniqueness, mirror image, individuality.
I allowed my eyes to roam where they would, sometimes drawn to the slight slant of the falling raindrops moving past the maple trees, at other times looking skyward, seeing the drops miraculously appear from the deep gray of the clouds which sprung the sacred water.
A closer movement, on my side of the door caught my attention. A tiny spider, about half the size of a pea was dropping down about a foot in front of my face. He spun out his strand of silk quickly, letting many inches feed out in a second or two, then hitting the brakes. It reminded me of casting a hook and sinker out into the pond as a ten year old, with the old bait casting reel, thumb on the spool of line, being careful to stop the free spooling bobbin before it could backlash. Mr. Spider had a firm handle on his spool, and he started and stopped his freefall with apparent ease.
For whatever reason, I gently blew on the spider. Apparently he didn’t much care for the feel of my breath, for he quickly retreated towards the top of the doorframe, from where he seemingly sprouted. My eyes drifted back towards the raindrops, and I forgot about spider. Must be he forgot about me too, as a few moments later, he was casting out the line once again. He had places to go, things to do.