Spider Walk

I walked along the path and couldn’t believe my eyes. There, amongst the weeds along the bank was a Dream Catcher—like those made by Native Americans.

In the Native American tradition, the design is a large circle, often made of a bent stick, filled with a woven web. At the center of the web is a small hole, often decorated with special stones or crystals. The idea is that if you hang a Dream Catcher over your bed, the web will catch the bad dreams and only the good ones will get through the center hole.

The concept is one that has meant a lot to me, as my business is named The DreamCatching Company. To me, the concept is more about catching the dreams that speak to you within your soul, rather than specific to nighttime dreams or necessarily the Native American design.

Yet, here, as I was walking along the river’s edge, I couldn’t help but be captivated. The Dream Catcher there wasn’t made by humans, but rather by a spider.

Craftily created, the spider had taken it upon herself to weave together the tops of a grassy weed. It was one of those weeds that has a tall stem and then a few sprouts, usually two or three at the top, almost like a long tuft at the top. The stem stayed intact but the tufts had been woven together to meet at the top into a large circle. Within the circle was a web, a perfect Dream Catcher, the center hole marked by one of the spider’s prey, a dream caught.

As I walked further, pondering this “miracle” along my path, I noticed ahead a leaf suspended in air, at least twenty feet above the ground, dangling twenty feet from a tree’s branch overhead.

I blinked, blinked again. Was I seeing things? When I arrived, I noticed that again it was the spider’s handiwork. The leaf was suspended from the long invisible filament. The leaf had curled a bit, like the sail of a boat when it catches air. Within the front of the leaf was another net a spider had crafted to catch its prey, the leaf acting as a backboard for any dream morsels that might accidentally slip through.

I realized on this walk that spiders (who represent the writers of the animal world as well as “the infinite possibilities of creation,” according to the book Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams and David Carson) reminded me that to catch our dreams, we simply have to open our eyes and creatively use the gifts right under our noses.

From Struggle to Flow

It was a blissful end to a mixed-up day. My husband got his schedule confused. He thought he had an appointment tonight but it turned out to be tomorrow night.

What this meant for us was, instead of an evening of fitting in each other, dinner and playful time with our son into narrow time slots, we found ourselves with an open night. Just for us.

We were quick to hop on the boat, the at-first-rainy day having turned to one filled with glowing light. As our old pontoon boat floated down the river, one with the current, a huge pair of pure white egrets lifted off the shore making a beautiful contrast against the twilit shore. An osprey flew overhead. Life became easy.

I was amazed at how quickly an otherwise busy day shifted into one overcome with deep peace. I thought of all the other times my life has shifted from a state of tension to one of relief through happy coincidences, inner choices or both—a situation gone awry passes like water under the bridge and I commit once more to honoring my soul.

With one heartbeat and opening to where life takes us, the world can change and so can we. How easy the shift from struggle to flow can be.

A Big Drop Day

Today is what I call a “Big Drop Day.” As I awoke this morning, big drops of rain hit the windowpane—a nice respite from the recent all-too-demanding heat pummeling the east coast.

One of my favorite newsletters, Plants & Planets (published by astrologist Rosie Finn—email her at rfinn@w-link.net for a subscription) says that in addition to being a rainy day here in our part of the world, the moon is also void all day, and Mercury is Retrograde.

Being a complete astrology novice, these two facts would mean nothing to me if it weren’t for Rosie’s interpretation. Mark today on your calendar, she says. It’s a do-nothing day. Nature has declared it a day to rest, replenish and fill up.

I thought of Rosie’s interpretation as I ran an errand this morning, running late. I was running late because we woke up late this morning (rainy days have a way of helping make that happen). In spite of the fact that the flow of life was saying, “Slow down, slow down!” my mind was going—albeit a bit slower than usual—at least half-a-mile a minute.

‘Must get there quick,” my mind chattered. “Must stay on schedule!”

“What schedule?” the world seemed to answer back. “Drop, drop, drip, drip.”

The car in front of me drove a slow 30 m.p.h. in a 50 m.p.h. zone, then decided to stop just as the light was turning from green to yellow. (“Who does that?” my mind chattered.)

I changed course to escape my fellow traveler’s pokey ways. Thanks to a gaggle of geese who chose just that moment to cross the road, however (“All together now!” their honks seem to say) my shortcut quickly became the Long Way Home.

“Late, late, late,” chattered my brain. I could almost hear the “Tsk, tsk, tsk” echoing behind the words.

“Going just the speed you should,” another voice whispered, in perfect synch with the Big Drops splashing on my windshield.

As I pulled up to the house, I was momentarily appalled to see that the person I was to meet there had not yet showed up. I was 10 minutes late—had Mercury Retrograde caused our signals to get irreparably crossed?

Just then, before my mind could chime it with its own ideas, my appointment pulled up behind me—late as well, or perhaps, as Nature would say, “Right on time.”

It’s days like this that remind me that something much greater knows exactly what the schedule is. When we let go of our other ideas, we discover everything has been happening exactly right all along.

Butterflies Everywhere

I’ve become very aware of butterflies lately. It seems like everywhere I go, there they are.

On our son Devin’s first birthday party, just last week, one circled him in a big sweep as he was chasing a big ball across a field, a look of elation on his face.

Just today, one settled down on a rock to sun herself near the river’s edge as I sat quietly watching nearby.

Then there was the day I hung in the hammock swing on our porch, Devin in my arms as together we watched a beautiful Tiger Swallowtail drink nectar from the flowers hanging above. He learned what a butterfly was that day, as we watched her swoop from one bloom to the next until she had her fill.

Each time I see a butterfly, I feel like it’s a sign from heaven, a blessing, a message that we’re being watched, cared for and very much loved.

I remember a dear friend’s child squatting on her haunches, just a few short months ago, as she watched a caterpillar cross the road. What a miraculous leap it is to go from that slithering, crawling creature to one that flies!

Perhaps one of the reasons I’ve been enjoying these recent visitors so much is they remind me that in an instant, we can change form and take flight to wherever our souls want us to go. And, that sometimes it takes a period of silence, incubation, and letting change cocoon us before flight happens.