This morning I shared my shower with a small white spider. For many people, this would be a cause for considerable panic, for many more an inconvenience which needs to be removed – an extra job. For me, though, it’s a gift.
Since the advent of farming – taking us away from our hunter-gatherer roots – humans have been systematically trying to distance themselves from nature. We build houses and create machines to transport us. We rely on man-made medicines to replace those which nature has provided. We light up the night with garish electric lighting and wear layers of clothing and shoes, all in an effort to keep nature at bay.
Quite why our ancestors decided to travel so far from our intended place in this world remains a mystery to me. As a druid and lifelong naturalist, one thing that comforts me, though, is that while in many ways we have turned our backs and given up on mother nature, she still refuses to give up on us. This little spider, with its determined presence in my shower, is just one of many ways in which I am reminded that nature is still trying to draw us back to where we belong. He found his way past all of the barriers that we humans have thrown up between us and the wild in order to share a very simple, but ultimately primal experience.
At first, he was hesitant, no doubt wondering if I was a threat to him and pondering why I prefer my water warm rather than cool, refreshing and straight from its source. I was hesitant too, worried that he might slip and fall to his death in the hot, soapy water below. As I watched, though, he began to secure himself to the rough wall with a small safety net of silk, keeping his eyes on me the entire time to make sure that I wasn’t going to hurt him.
A couple of minutes passed in that way while we each acclimated to the other’s presence – something which our hunter-gatherer ancestors would have simply seen as expected, made awkward in these modern times because we have put aside or forgotten much of their experience and wisdom.
At last, his wariness of me receded, and my concern over his safety was replaced, instead, with admiration and a clear realisation that – like me – he was perfectly adept within his own environment. He didn’t need any assistance in such a simple task.
As I soaped up my hair, I watched him gather the tiny droplets of the warm steam on his front legs and begin to drink. We had formed a connection – my love of hot showers had provided him with a new means for sustaining his life; nature had found a way. After drinking his fill, he too began to have a wash. Both of us enjoying, in companionable silence, the delicately berry-scented water on our skin. Two souls sharing a single primal experience.
Many people look at spiders with fear, or at the very least a mild disgust. I think that one of the main reasons for this negative feeling is a simple lack of understanding. In modern times, the lifeforms that we share this world with, especially its more alien-looking members, by and large, aren’t seen as sentient creatures – as living beings with all of the same needs that we humans possess. But all creatures share our primal need for safety, shelter, and sustenance. In fact, all living things share far more in the way of commonality than we do disparity – the evidence is right there before us if we just invest the time and interest to observe it.
Nature finds a way. She recognises that we are one and the same, all part of the same universal web of existence. She hasn’t turned her back on us, and we are going against our core, primal nature when we turn our back on her.
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