Sixties Chick

In response to my last entry (the rant about cell phone usage in enclosed public spaces), both my somewhat cynical brother-in-law and my cousin in sunny, foreclosed-upon Florida commented that they had been hoping to read something a bit more upbeat. “Uplifting,” I think was the word they used. Seeing that their comments came within minutes of each other, I figured I’d better take a look at it. Have I been too negative lately?

In my defense, it sure is easy to feel down. What passes for reality looks mighty grim. A jobless recovery (that should cheer up everyone who’s out of work!), more troops for Afghanistan, and Cheney’s snarly punim plastered once again all over cable news. It’s enough to wipe the smile off of any face.

My solution, inspired by those little monkeys of “see no evil and hear no evil” fame, is to boycott the news. I decide that in order to “uplift” myself, the news has got to go. On TV, on the internet, in print. Not even a quick peak at the rolled paper lying on my neighbor’s front walk is allowed. And just so I do not shirk my civic duty before I plunge my head into the sand, I send a round of e-mails to my U.S. elected officials informing them of their responsibility to stand up to the insurance companies and pass real health care reform for people like me and my daughter. Then I pull the plug. It takes a stalwart soul to stay upbeat. That which uplifts is what I’m after.

Lucky for me that one evening, shortly after instituting my news blackout, I happen upon a spider web hanging from the utility line in front of the house. It’s huge, at least five feet in diameter, magnificent. “Wow,” I exclaim to Rio (the dog) who pays no attention, “Would you look at the beauty of this thing!”  The web is incredibly intricate,  simple at the same time. It is light and delicate, yet said to be as strong as tensile steel.  It is a work of art, yet totally functional. I am captivated by the perfection of it.

The next morning, I rush outside –eager to get a better look, but it’s gone.  “Talk about being OK with impermanence,” I remark to Rio as he lifts his leg on the nearby bush. That evening, the web is back, just as big, just as beautiful as before, the brown spider in the center doing his thing. “Now that’s what I call perseverance,” I pronounce with conviction, noting that Rio is busy with his nose down a  hole in the yard awaiting his chance to finally snag something that can’t outrun him.

Everyday and every night for over a week, the pattern is repeated. The web is there, magnificent and whole at night, gone in the morning. “Imagine having that kind of willingness, that sense of purpose,” I assert, awed by what I am witnessing. Rio sniffs and heads for his favorite spot on the neighbor’s front lawn.

One morning around five o’clock, unable to sleep, I go out to see what’s going on with the web. There she is, my marvelous Charlotte, eating her creation, strand by strand, demolishing her masterpiece – a design more brilliant than any in Architectural Digest or Art News. There she is, deftly taking down the structure she so steadfastly builds day after day, even as she clings to it.  “What an exquisite dance,” I think as I watch her start to consume  the strand she is balancing on.

“This is a wondrous world,” I say quietly only to myself, knowing that Rio is not all that interested in my observations. He looks up, though, with those loving, deep brown eyes, head cocked, and I am moved to add, “Yes, you and I, we’re wondrous too.  Not to mention uplifting.” But this, you can be sure, is not news to Rio.

This entry was posted on September 7, 2009 at 8:46 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.