The was a spider in my shower just now. I watched as it spun its web and explored my shampoo, conditioner, and shelf of random shower tid-bits. I wondered what it felt like to be a spider. Did it notice me? Was it concerned about the steam starting to envelope the air around it?
It was time to try and remove the spider from my shower. I attempted to scooch it onto several items when suddenly, it fell to the floor. Horrified, I turned off the water and tried to save it from the pool of death it had fallen into. Nothing was working! I ran out of the shower to grab a couple tissues and rushed back to raft Spidey to safety. Things weren’t looking good. I laid the tissues on the bathroom floor and crouched down to assess my new friend’s vitals. There was no movement. Its body was all smushed into itself.
I remembered how resilient insects were. Once, I saved a moth from a glass of water. (By saved I mean I thought it was dead and I was just scooping it out to give it a proper burial.) As soon as I had lifted it from the water, I saw it move a little bit. I grabbed paper towels and laid them under the moth-in hopes they would soak up the excess water. It worked! The moth seemed to rise from the dead and I rushed outside and placed it in a bush.
I wondered if this spider was like my resurrected moth. Insects were resilient.
I left the tissues and went back to showering. Now and again I would peek to see if Spidey had moved. I didn’t see anything.
Carefully, I stepped out of the shower to dry off and kneeled down to check again.
Please be alive. I’m sorry I tried to move you. You can do it. You’re r-e-s-i-l-i-e-n-t.
I saw movement. I scooped up the tissues and put them into the sink. More movement.
It looked like one of its legs was stuck, or injured.
I grabbed a dry tissue and made a little bridge from the wet ones to see if that would help. It did!
It was alive! Completely intact!
I debated taking him outside. I felt reluctant to make him have to travel after such a harrowing experience. Currently, he is somewhere in my bathroom.
What difference does it make, to save o-n-e spider, this o-n-e time? I can just as easily step on him the next time I go to the bathroom. One of the cats could get him.
What importance does the life of a spider have, when so many die and are reborn so continuously?
I don’t know. I just know I couldn’t let him drown. Not tonight, not in that shower.
I thought about the weeks ahead and wondered what I’ll be doing with myself. I seemed to have done well with this social experiment. I had gained a lot of value from this physical distancing. I learned things from our machine slowing to a soft grind.
I had only completed one part of a three part isolation series. Wtf was I going to do now?
What can you do but go deeper? Even deeper than before.
We seem to have been raised to be part of a machine. What happens when that machine stops? It’s a question many of us are attempting to answer.
And what will happen when the machine restarts? Will our insights hold? Will our civilization truly be changed?
I don’t know. But I know that every day, I’m going to make sure I don’t drown in the bathwater. I’ll raft myself onto dry land. I’ll make bridges of tissues for myself to climb onto when I’m ready.
Who am I with out the machine?
Just a spider trying to build a web. Unsure of what the next moment will bring, but I just focus on weaving. I remember how resilient I am, how resilient we all are.