Tag Archives: Reverence for Life

The Gods & the Spider Under the Glass

  In an effort to understand the mischievous divine beings that appear to cut in and out of our reality as in an Edwin A. Abbott tale, of late, I find myself weighing various human experiences, curious for any shadowy analogy that may emerge.   Some see Christ in a piece of burnt toast. These days, I see the gods in creatures with the mysterious symmetry of eight legs and eight eyes. I also see the prankish and troublesome divine in ceiling fans and floral ceiling murals—but that is a post for another day.   Yesterday, I spied a tiny jumping spider upon my kitchen counter. It appeared to be waiting to see if some human would come along and prepare for it a fly soufflé.   I did not have my chef’s hat with me at the time, but I did have within arm’s reach a cube-shaped magnifying glass. The 1×1-inch cube serves as a sort of holding area, by which one can contain something rather smallish to a flat surface, and venture a closer peek.   This I did. The spider jumped about from acrylic wall to acrylic wall, trying to escape, and when it paused, I examined its intricate, miniature design. I could see its little spiky hairs; I…

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What is Reverence for Life?

  Swimming with my eight-year-old daughter requires patience.  Actually, she’s pretty much a mermaid and can swim circles around anything just shy of a dolphin.  But when the sun starts turning your skin oh-so-crispy bacon and your fingertips begin to resemble wrinkly raisins, she’s ready to devote another hour-plus in the pool, not to butterfly strokes, but to rescuing ants and bees and other creepy-crawlies that have fallen hapless victim to the water.   My daughter is amphibian in her devotion to preserving life.  The other night, in the dry confines of our living room, she lectured me following my “coldblooded murder” of a centipede that I caught trespassing across our carpet.  Her earnest chiding caused me to consider my thoughtless act of centi-cide.  Later that evening, my daughter asleep, I redeemed myself.  Another many-legged arthropod reared its forcipules; this time I captured it with a napkin and released it into the untamed wilderness beyond my porch door.   These days, I can hardly get away with swatting a mosquito in my daughter’s presence.  Yet I have no one other than myself to blame.  I’m the one who taught…

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