Creation’s Web & Flow
Meet Claude, my mighty motivator. He’s the spider that has taken up shop on my porch just outside my kitchen window and has become somewhat of a friend. I know… this is odd to me too. I am not one to co-exist with anything that crawls (much less anything with 8 legs), but it’s been my experience that we often fear that which we have little understanding around. The funny thing is, I think he moved in shortly after my partner and I did. I began to notice that he would come out at dusk, just as the Summer’s heat hung heavy in the air and the sky bled an indigo hue. Some nights I stand and watch him, diligent and dedicated, as he works in solitude for several hours building his web. He’s reserved and docile, too committed to his craft to worry about someone like me.
If you’re wondering whether I stole the name ‘Claude’ from the famous ‘Claude Monet’, you would be correct and I would be predictable (which, admittedly, is a characteristic I try to avoid). Although, similar to Monet, and the other great Impressionists of his time, this 8-legged Claude quickly creates original works of art, in relationship to the presence (or in this case, absence) of light. I like to imagine him as distinguished and sophisticated, wearing a miniature straw hat, with the cacophony of crickets and cicadas surrounding him like a grand orchestra. He weaves a new web every night and just as the blanket of stars begins to lift, he packs up his tools and recycles his silk, working as efficiently and tidily as he did before.
According to the slightly more popularized worldwide web, otherwise known as ‘the internet’, Claude here is an orb-weaver spider. These spiders live for 12 months at most and typically die off sometime in late Summer/ early Fall. Taking note of his size alone, it looks like (now, given that it’s soon to be September) he may only be living for another month or two. Now, as an artist first and therapist second, I couldn’t help but think two things:
1) Imagine waking up every day and creating as if your livelihood depended on it. And…
2) While some may argue that orb weavers might not be conscious of their lifespan in the same way that we, as humans, are, imagine if you were aware of roughly how long you had to live and create? How much differently would you approach your day-to-day reality? How would this then inform what you do and how you do it?
As I’ve mentioned before, perfectionism is something that I’ve had to develop a different relationship with over the years, especially considering how we seem to live in a culture that not only encourages this behavior but uses it to set the standard. In a previous post, I’ve discussed how it took some time for me to wake up to the fact that perfection simply doesn’t exist. So, just think- realizing how much power something like perfection, something that isn’t real, has over you, particularly your thoughts and behaviors- including the kind of art you make.
Now, consider ‘creation’. It is life-affirming and life-giving. It is wild, bold, and even liberating. Creativity thrives in a place of childlike reverence for the world around us. It’s playful like a buttery yellow. Maybe it sounds like a mixture of laughter and hiccups- joyful and spontaneous. Perfection, on the other hand, is mass-produced. It’s rigid, cold, and sterile. Perfection stifles creativity like a great, big boa constrictor. For myself, there have been times where I’ve failed to do too much of anything out of fear of it ‘not meeting my vision’, which leaves the trite, age-old question, “What’s the point?”. Getting to the root of this question might be your life’s work while for others, maybe not. Everyone’s answer may be slightly different. But, what this silver-dollar-sized creature has taught me is that when it comes to creating anything for yourself- first, approach it like your livelihood depends on it and, at the same time, don’t be so attached to the outcome. I find that the closer I look at things, the more I realize just how much is temporary. (From the Allstar Player’s Rulebook: the more you take those small leaps of faith in yourself and your process, the more you create, the less attached you are to the final product. The best way to learn is by doing. Let each ‘mistake’ inform your next creation.)
One tremendous lesson that I’ve personally learned through the doing is that as much as certain spiritual circles might attest to the notion of “Jump and the net will catch you” (or for the sake of keeping with the same metaphor- “Jump and the web will catch you”), it doesn’t account for the whole picture. While I appreciate this blind faith, it can be precisely that- blinding. As I recognize more of my blessings and inherent privilege, I’ve come to realize that, much like Claude, you can work tirelessly, dedicated to weaving together all the ‘right’ threads, bringing your final product to fruition, and yet you may not be able to attract exactly what you want. Instead, I’d like to suggest this simple revision- you can jump, and the Universe/ net/ web, etc. might catch you. In the case of the latter, it also helps you to discern, “Do I really want to be caught? At least, in this web?”. I mean, as seemingly non-threatening as this particular spider is, if you were to get caught in his web and you fit the bill, you’d be his midnight snack. Consider it ‘food for thought’.