WALKING ALONG the stream at dawn

WALKING ALONG the stream at dawn, I notice the spider webs—exquisite webs, hundreds of them, every stunted jack pine or ground juniper gilded with a necklace, each necklace hung with lucent pearls of dew. And, whispering in the first breeze, an old question of the night: What of MY webs? What are my choices, my chances; how much effort should really be spent on such fragile, ephemeral enterprises, sure to be blown away be some wild wind, or torn up by some plaid-jacketed clodhopper? To what end all the spinning, the careful planning, the anchoring? The striving for beauty?
An opaline sun begins to pierce the mist, and the necklaces glisten, and from some dream-secret spinner comes reply: They are happiest who are tied at many levels and in many ways to the world around them. Expand yourself, says the spinner. Grow, reach, risk, invest, incorporate more of the universe into your world. Spin, spin….
(From the book, Paddle Whispers, Douglas Wood)