One night, a daddy longlegs came into my room and sprinted toward my bed.

Or, I should say, it sprinted toward my futon mattress, which rested on the floor of my basement apartment. I didn’t really have a bed.

And when I say “sprinted,” I mean it. It was like it was on a mission.

I was used to this sort of thing. I lived in a basement apartment.

I grabbed a washed-out, empty yogurt cup and a coaster, and scooped the daddy longlegs into the cup, covering the top with the coaster.

I took the daddy longlegs outside. At that point in time, if a bug or spider showed up in my shower I sprayed them to death. But if they appeared elsewhere, I took them outside.

As I was pouring the daddy longlegs out of the cup I could see another one, coming right in the door as if it had been invited over for tea. It sprinted right for my bedroom.

I was still busy with the one I had already caught, so I said, “You get that one, Gromit!”

Gromit was a stuffed dog that looked like the animated dog from Wallace and Gromit.

I finished dumping the daddy longlegs and walked back–what do you know: the daddy longlegs had stopped and was resting right on Gromit.

“Thanks, Gromit.”

I scooped up the other daddy longlegs and carried it to the door, but as soon as I opened the door, another daddy longlegs sprinted in again.

“Another one, Gromit. Can you get it?”

I finished dumping the one I had, then looked back: sure enough–Gromit had the other one. It was sitting right on him.

I scooped it up, and this time, I cautiously opened the door, checking for a daddy longlegs that might be gearing up for making a mad dash–nothing.

I let out the last daddy longlegs, and closed the door.

———

That got me thinking. I figured it was an odd thing for two or three daddy longlegs spiders to sprint in the same direction (I don’t know if they are truly spiders–Wikipedia says some are, and some aren’t).

I thought there must be some sort of intelligence at work and if there’s some sort of intelligence at work, then a deal can be made, right?

Previously, if I found something in my shower that I didn’t want to be there, I’d spray it to death. A hideous way to die! I felt bad, but…they were in my sacred space.

So I made a deal. I kind of told them, in my head, thinking really hard, that if they would never appear in my shower or in my bed, I would never kill any of them, anymore.

And I stopped seeing them in my shower and in my bed. No bugs. No spiders.

———

Odd things started to happen.

Sometimes, when I’d see a spider on the wall, I’d just tell it I was going to take it outside, then hold the yogurt cup up to the wall, under the spider, and the spider would just kind of hop in.

And then instead of scrambling and trying to get out, usually the spider would just sit there, waiting for me to take it outside.

I was pleasantly surprised.

———

Then winter came. I was capturing the spiders and taking them outside whenever I found them, but I knew they wouldn’t last very long outside, so I felt that, essentially, I was killing them.

It was hard on my conscience. And also I was worried about how this reflected on my part of the bargain.

If I knew I was essentially killing them, wouldn’t they eventually start showing up in my shower again?

So I made another deal: I’d stop taking them outside. Instead, I’d put them in one of two windowsills and let them live there. I also designated all the high corners of the rooms as spots where they could live if they wanted.

Sometimes they took me up on it, and we didn’t bother each other.

And still, no bugs or spiders were appearing in my shower or bed.

———

At some point, I became more comfortable with sharing my home with spiders and bugs. Although I started realizing that I only really ever saw spiders, now. I hardly ever saw bugs. And even the spiders I only saw rarely.

Eventually, I began a policy of nonintervention. I just let the spiders do what they wanted. If I saw one (which was rare), I’d let it go about its business, which it did. They would head across the room in a very business-like fashion and I wouldn’t see them again.

But I did start noticing some things. Like, though I rarely saw a spider when I was home alone, if I invited someone over who was afraid of spiders, one would suddenly appear, dangling right in front of them.

They KNEW. They knew exactly what they were doing.

———

I’d always been into meditation. And then I read a book about communicating with animals (A Language Older than Words–lovely book!).

One day I was up late, reading in bed.

A spider entered my bedroom through the bedroom door.

It crawled toward me.

I thought, that’s strange. They usually don’t crawl toward me. Their business doesn’t ever involve me.

So I figured I’d see what the spider was going to do.

It crawled up on my futon mattress. It had entered sacred space!

It was moving slowly, though. It didn’t seem aggressive, and I didn’t move. It stopped a foot away from where I was reading, looking straight at me (or well, so I think–I don’t really understand how their eyes work).

So I thought, well, whatever you have to say, it must be important.

I put down my book, and faced the spider, sitting in a meditation pose.

I closed my eyes, cleared my thoughts, and waited.

A thought popped into my head: Lately, I’m not meditating enough.

I opened my eyes. The spider was on its way back out the door.

Thank you, spider. I appreciate that!

It was true, too. I hadn’t meditated in a long while.

———

That’s happened many times, now. Spiders appear before me and won’t leave until I listen to their spiritual advice, which generally varies from “You’re not eating right, lately,” to “You haven’t been incorporating nature into what you do enough, lately.”

For example, when I lived at the Winchester on Capitol Hill, there was a spider who decided to live in my bathroom sink. I didn’t know why, but because of my nonintervention policy, I didn’t remove it.

I washed my hands in the kitchen, or at times, on one side of the bathroom sink. The spider was there for a week, at least.

I was busy, then. I was working on schoolwork and trying to get a self-published book layed out in InDesign. I was basically working nonstop, and probably had been for a month or so.

Until one night I stopped to poop, and while I was sitting there pooping, I looked at the spider and thought, okay, what do you have to tell me?

I closed my eyes.

Soon, a thought popped into my head: I’m not getting out enough.

I opened my eyes. The spider, after one week of hanging out in my sink, building strange, beautiful webbing that never caught any bugs–after one week of making me wash my hands in the kitchen–after one week, at immediately the time I got that thought in my head, the spider scampered off to its next order of business.

They KNOW. They know exactly what they’re doing.

I went outside immediately after washing my hands. I took a walk. The night was clear, and everything smelled alive.

TAGS: , , , ,

AARON DIETZ is the author of Super, a novel from Emergency Press about commitment, crisis, paperwork, and heartbreak. Dietz's super powers include a high metabolism and the ability to put things back where he got them. He's also pretty good at math. As an instructional designer, Dietz has written online high school courses on computer programming, green design, and 3-D video game creation. It’s natural for him to write quizzes. He’s worked a decade in libraries. He’s also been paid to count traffic and once failed a personality test. Dietz writes for TheNervousBreakdown.com, blogs at aarondietz.us, and is an advisory editor of KNOCK Magazine.

100 responses to “Spiders Are My Spiritual Advisors”

  1. H says:

    Spiders don’t give me advice but cats tell me jokes.

  2. Tom Hansen says:

    At first I thought you were writing “The Myth of Sisyphus,” with spiders instead of rocks but then it turned into an arachnoid Khalil Gibran. Hmmmm.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Ha! It did seem like spiders were going to crawl through my front door for the rest of eternity, that night…. I’d never had them just brazenly try to sneak in that way before. And then it happened again and again!

  3. Gloria says:

    I may never be able to kill a spider again (though the only time I do so now is when I see one in the shower.)

    I think your relationship with spiders is marvelous. Right on.

    And hey! Both of our latest pieces involve bowel movements! I have no idea what my point is…

    • Gloria says:

      Also, I love that you have a stuffed animal named Gromit that is the likeness of his namesake. That’s rad. Do you have a Wallace doll too?

      • Aaron Dietz says:

        Pooping is just a commonly recurring theme in my work–NOT something I strive for, but it just keeps coming out (pun intended).

        I don’t have a stuffed Wallace, but I don’t know if I need one–Gromit’s the smart one, and he keeps things nice and safe. I swear there was this time I wiped out on a Wyoming ice patch and thought I was a goner–turns out, everything was fine. I drove away. Gromit was in the car. I thanked him.

        • Gloria says:

          It’s true. One thing I never understood is why Gromit saved Wallace’s ass on such a regular basis. I mean he is so loyal – which is one of the things that makes him so incredibly lovable. But wouldn’t his life improve is Wallace wasn’t in it? He’s a helluva dog, that Gromit.

        • Aaron Dietz says:

          And he’s incredibly good at eye-rolls. A master, I tell ya’!

  4. Simon Smithson says:

    Oh, son of a bitch. I’ve been killing my way through legions of spiders recently. Two of which – no, three, now that I think of it – have dropped right out of nowhere, right in front of my face.

    Sorry, guys. I’m territorial. I like this non-aggression pact idea, though.

    • Simon Smithson says:

      In my defense, the spiders over here are poisonous as shit.

      • Zara Potts says:

        Nice ‘Saber there, brew…

        • Simon Smithson says:

          Thanks brew! Slade is the Man.

        • Aaron Dietz says:

          It’s weird–since I’ve started trying to communicate with spiders, I haven’t seen them as much.

          Granted, yes, they aren’t poisonous (or at least, mildly poisonous at best–not harmful to humans, anyway), and aren’t probably as numerous as they might be in your neighborhood.

          So it’s Slade that’s fixing people up with sabers? I’ve been out of touch. Still catching up….

        • Simon Smithson says:

          Interesting – spiders were all over the place a little while back, now that I’ve decided to communicate with them, there seem to be fewer around.

          Talkative bunch, though…

        • Aaron Dietz says:

          Oh yeah–it’s like they spend a lot of time getting your attention, but once they’ve gotten it, it’s like you’re not as exciting anymore (to torment).

          They usually aren’t able to talk about the latest DVDs or whatever, but that’s kinda’ what I like about ’em.

  5. Zara Potts says:

    This is possibly the nicest thing I have ever read about spiders. It has made me feel sympathetic and even a little affectionate for the horrible little creatures. This must mean you are a genius because I HATE spiders.
    Having said that, I save spiders when they are in my house. Although, maybe ‘save’ isn’t the best description, because what I really do is put them in a glass, take them outside my gate and leave them on the road and hope they get run over. I like to think it’s a kind of survival of the fittest sort of thing.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Really, Zara, that sounds reasonably fair. It’s not like you’re going into THEIR homes, and leaving human webs all over the place.

      Since they’re my spider friends, though, I do hope they manage to live a decent life for themselves.

  6. Spiders scare the hell out of me. Really. It’s an irrational, ridiculous fear, but they get me.

    One time, though, I was about 18 yrs old and smoking pot out of a window. I looked around and there was a big spider right near my face. For some reason I wasn’t scared, and I just sat there watching him watching me. That went on every night for weeks. The one spider that never scared me.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      That’s fascinating, David. I wonder what the spider was trying to say, or what its purpose was. Maybe it was just enjoying the second hand pot. And maybe that helped it put out a friendly vibe that didn’t scare you.

      • Well, I always used to find (and this was backed up by my hundreds of stoner friends) that bugs love weed. They hang around, getting baked.

        However, I do recall the distinct sensation of the spider trying to communicate. I don’t think I ever understood it, though.

      • I like how you spoke of them. I get at least 3 or 4 of them at a time and the cool part is they seem to watch over me at night. They go in the corner of the ceiling and they go on that side during the night and normal it’s the biggest of them all and the big and medium hang in my bathroom on the side of the tolite in its own web and another where my sink is. Once every other week a tiny lil black spider pops out and chills next to the sink and doesn’t bug. Now I don’t like spiders but these guys been hanging with me for a year and they seem to just like me and I am thinking they are a spiritual guidance.

  7. Tom Hansen says:

    Now you’ve ruined it for me Aaron. Every time I take a paper towel and smother a spider and then drop it in the toilet I’m gonna be “Damn. I’m not spiritual enough.”

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Sorry, Tom. Wow–I never could squish the things; that’s why I used the bug spray for a while. But watching the writhe around–that always made me wish I could squish them instead. Much better way to go.

      I’m hoping, then, that whatever alien species dominates us in the near future decides to treat me well based on how I treat spiders. This is a completely irrational hope, but whatever!

  8. Judy Prince says:

    Lovely, Aaron. Spider Spirituality. I once did a Quaker Meeting sermon on a spider. Let me rephrase that so you don’t confuse me with Little Miss Muffet: I once sermonised at Quaker Meeting on the subject of a spider in my livingroom that had dropped down beside me; my observing that it had generated—from within itself—the food-acquiring, the mobility, agility, strength and support it needed to survive. Awesome thing, too, is that the inner incipient web stuff, when spun out, is nearly invisible. Inner. Invisible. Strength. Yeah!

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      That’s beautiful, Judy. I wish that sermon was on YouTube.

      Spiders are pretty amazing creatures and I’m grateful to them for keeping me on the right track whenever I get into unhealthy patterns in my life. I love the way you’re describing them, here! Yeah!

      • Judy Prince says:

        Thanks, Aaron! I’m mailing you a coupla squashed spiders to show my gratitude.

        Forgot to’ve said I loved your word “sprint” for the first couple spiders coming in, and your descriptions made them seem like little strong patient angels.

        • Aaron Dietz says:

          Thanks, Judy! It’s odd–they really do move with purpose. I didn’t give them much credit for that before all this happened to me.

        • Judy Prince says:

          Hmmmm, now the devil’s grabbed me and made me think lexically . . . maybe spiders aren’t little strong, patient angels, but *SPY*ders!!! Time for me to pray. Wait—maybe they’re SPYders in the good sense. Nah, ain’t no “good sense” to SPYings.

        • Aaron Dietz says:

          I don’t know–I don’t get the sense that spiders spy, unless you count the fact that they already pretty much seem to know everything you’re doing. (I mean, really–all the practical advice I get from them is geared toward what I’ve been up to lately, so maybe they ARE watching all the time, but I doubt it–they seem pretty busy. As soon as I get what they’re saying to me, they’re outta there.)

        • Judy Prince says:

          Thanks for the needed re-orientation, Aaron. It wrestled down the devil, and now I’m once again seeing spiders for the busy angels they are. But what happens if they get too close while you’re sleeping, and you’re snoring, and well you know…….they could just get sucked into your windpipe—-YAK! Just ignore me, Aaron, my feeders haven’t been around yet to throw big hunks of steak at me, and I need lotsa iron today.

        • Aaron Dietz says:

          Judy–that whole thing where people say we eat six spiders per year is crazy!

          I have no evidence that it doesn’t happen, but I haven’t seen any convincing evidence that it does. My instinct tells me that spiders are smart enough not to get sucked into a nose or a mouth or anything. I can almost nearly say you’re entirely safe from this potential problem! If a spider can tell me when I need to eat right, it probably knows enough not to wind up in my stomach on accident.

          Besides, I’m almost sure we’d see this on YouTube if it happens.

        • Judy Prince says:

          Oh well that’s a relief, Aaron. Wish the spider angels would’ve tipped off one of my kittens. Nearly had to use a toilet plunger to get that fluffy thing outa my mouth. Me feeling better now that the feeders have tossed me a couple lamburgers.

        • Aaron Dietz says:

          Judy, you are a welcome entertainment this weekend. Stay well-fed. And if possible, choose your lamb-meat provider carefully.

  9. Marni Grossman says:

    I don’t think I’ll ever see spiders the same way again, Aaron.

    Though, when I think about it, they’ve bothered me a lot less since the summer I lived with cockroaches. Once you’ve encountered the cockroach, all other bugs seem far less malicious.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      I’m incredibly glad I don’t have to deal with cockroaches. NOT a traditionally communicative type of bug.

      There is potentially a year of my life in the future where I’ll live in Taiwan, and they have cockroaches there–I shudder to think what I’m going to have to deal with.

      Though–they also have huge spiders there. Maybe the spiders can help me with the cockroach problem. Delicious, perhaps they’ll say!

  10. Irene Zion says:

    Aaron,

    I always thought that daddy-longlegs weren’t spiders, so I wasn’t afraid of them. Now you tell me that “sometimes” they are and that is totally confusing me. I don’t know whether I have to be afraid of them too. Or, perhaps, I should learn from you and not be afraid of any of them.
    (How do you “not be afraid” of something you’ve always been afraid of?)
    I never, ever kill spiders. I know that their families will come and get me. I try to relocate them, sort of making little screaming noises the whole time. Me making the noises, not them. They’re always very quiet, which I find suspicious.
    All right. I’m ready to communicate with spiders. Now you have to teach me how to go about it.
    I’m waiting….

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Some creepy-crawly things that people call daddy longlegs ARE spiders, and some creepy-crawly things that people call daddy longlegs are not. I don’t understand it, and I couldn’t tell from the pictures on Wikipedia whether or not the ones I call daddy longlegs were the spiders or the other things.

      However, I’ve never communicated with a daddy longlegs that I can remember. It’s usually one of the more bulkier body types, but still not any huge spiders.

      Okay, communication guide (short version):

      1. Find a spider that’s willing to communicate. Usually they find a spot where you can’t ignore them and just hang out there. If they’re dangling in your face, they’re probably just playing with you, making you freak out for fun.

      2. Meditate. Not anything super serious, but definitely just clear your thoughts and let things pop into your head. If you can get a blank enough head going on, the spider can drop some advice right in there. And they’re always right, in my experience.

      I love that you’re on the relocation program–it’s nice, and it protects your immediate environment from bugs, which the spiders can help catch, you see. So it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. Hopefully, there are plenty of nice spots around your home where they can live and catch some good food.

  11. Erika Rae says:

    I prefer to take spiders outside, too. Living smack dab in the middle of the forest, they are completely unavoidable. What’s the point in killing them? There are so many of them, it’s pointless and just plain mean. I get no pleasure from killing bugs or spiders. And, the spiders eat the bugs, so I’ve given them license to do the dirty work they were born to do. Fighting them is a losing battle as they are always crawling through our space. Those little brown garden spiders that are so common are everywhere, too. Everywhere. They never bite us, though. Pretty amazing.

    My 6-year-old daughter actually plays with the Daddy Long Legs and has proclaimed that when she grows up she is going to be a gardener, an artist, a baker, the inventor of teleportation and a Daddy Long Legs saver.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Your daughter has her work cut out for her! Teleportation will be sweet, though!

      I’ve had friends wonder about my allegiance with spiders. They’ll often ask me if I’m worried they’ll bite me (especially because I usually close my eyes when I try to communicate with them, so I guess it’s true that I don’t watch them). But you see, once you accept how smart spiders are, you realize that they can walk up to you in your sleep and bite you whenever they want, so really it’s like, “Why worry? If they want to, they will?”

  12. Irene Zion says:

    Aaron,
    You just wrote this last night.
    How are you down at the bottom already?

  13. This was great, Aaron – I totally loved this.

    I’m going to try this. My dad has always had a nice relationship with spiders and snakes.
    He once let one (a spider) sit on his hand while he played the piano. I don’t know if I could
    do that because I’d be afraid they would bite.

    But upon reading about spiders, they do only bite if they feel their lives are in danger.
    They’re not apt to come in your room like a vampire or something to come bite you.
    They are generally loners. I have no doubt that those spiders were trying to
    relate to you. I have heard it is good to let them live in your house.

    Cockroaches are another story, however. I could never commune with them, having
    had some pretty awful experiences in the city. (like the time a huge red one with wings crawled across my naked ass while in bed during the hot hot summer – they would come out of the walls in the summer…shudder)

    Now I feel badly for killing that New Zealand spider that Zara sent us.
    But I got worried we’d mess up our Hudson Valley eco-system like how those carp
    from China have invaded our waters and are messing everything up. Yeah, that’s why.

    Again, thanks.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      It’s good to protect the ecosystem, for sure.

      Zara sent you a spider? Not on purpose I hope!

      Cockroaches: EXTREMELY non-communicative. I’m glad I don’t have a cockroach problem. And if I did, I might just ask the spiders for help dealing with it.

      I’ve had no luck with swarms of things–like ants, cockroaches, etcetera. Bugs in general aren’t super responsive. They’re just kind of into themselves, mostly, or they just have too many challenges going on to worry about what you’re saying. I’m not sure.

      Bees might be interesting–haven’t tried them. But yeah, cockroaches: not easy.

  14. Matt says:

    I think the spiders have just crowned you king, and are waiting for you to lead them into their glorious, inevitable revolution.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Hm. Me as king could be a challenge–I don’t even have time to call my parents once a month. But you know–I’d give it a shot, if that’s what they wanted.

  15. Irene Zion says:

    Uh oh!

    We had a huge spider that came in with a bunch of bananas from our yard and our guest squooshed him. Will the rest of his family come and get me because the squoosher has already flown out of town tonight?

    I will meditate on the next one!
    I promise!
    (Do you think the family is listening?)

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      You mean the family of the spider? You never know–I’d be fairly certain they know, and I’d also be fairly certain they understand how the world works.

      Spiders dangle themselves right in front of people to annoy them, and they must know the risks of doing so (squishing). They’re smart that way, and I think because they see themselves as part of a larger world, a completely interdependent system, they’re willing to raise awareness in this way. Plus, they probably reincarnate or something.

      I’d love it if you meditated on the next one, though it sounds like this spider wasn’t necessarily there for any of you–their business is mysterious. Half the time, I’m wondering why they’re in such a hurry, because often after they’re done talking to me, it’s like they’re late for an appointment or something.

      Let me know if the spiders tell you anything!

  16. Irene Zion says:

    Aaron,

    I was yelling, “Someone get a paper cup and an index card!”
    Then the guest smooshed him.
    It wasn’t my fault!

  17. Irene Zion says:

    Aaron,

    It’s more than practically a way of life.
    It is one.

  18. Rachel Pollon says:

    I loooove this! Where do I begin?! I’ve been ascared of most bugs pretty much all of my life. I don’t like being jumped on or stung or bitten. I’m a real original, I tell ya. But awhile ago, a long while ago, I had this one boyfriend who told me spiders were good luck. (He wasn’t a bug collector or anything. I bet someone told him that when he was really young and he was simply perpetuating it.) I don’t know that I really thought of them that way but I stopped being afraid of them and realized they do really seem to leave you alone. Other bugs freak me, but spiders not so much. Now, I just ignore them. Let them do their thing. I avoid them if they are in my direct path but I figure they’re going to move along at some point and just give them an inner nod of acknowledgment and go on my way. If I noticed one hanging over me from the ceiling or in my bed, that would bum me out. But after reading this, I think if I see one, I’ll try communicating with it and see if we can learn something from each other. I like the idea of something you’re afraid of giving you a reason to meditate.
    I’ve seen my dog go after one or two and the spiders just roll up in a ball and don’t bite him like I worry about. So maybe they understand he means no harm, that he’s just curious. I like the idea of spiders being really smart and intuitive. Freaky!

    Fun piece, Aaron!

  19. Becky says:

    A lot of African American and Afro-Caribbean creole cultures have what they call “Anansi” stories or “Anansi-man” stories. We would recognize the general type of story by the more common “Uncle Remus Story” moniker. The Uncle Remus versions usually feature N. American creatures rather than African ones, but anyway.

    They’re basic trickster tales, like a lot of Native American trickster tales, for example, but these come from Africa.

    “Anansi” means “Spider.” “Spider-Man Stories.”

    (Indeed these had input into Stan Lee’s character and the naming thereof, or so I have heard.)

    But Anansi was a trickster (characterized by Briar Rabbit in Uncle Remus versions). Lopping off the lips of Brother Hound with a scythe or trying to steal Brother Firefly’s fish by swindle.

    So be careful about what those spiders tell you. I mean, their reputation isn’t great, and not just because some of them can kill you. They may have tricked you into giving them a warm place to live. They might be throwing keggers and orgies in the window sills. That might not be meditation. It might be mind control.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Thanks for the warning, Becky. I’m sure they’ve got my best interests in mind, as the few times I’ve disregarded their input, it’s been a bad time for me.

      However, that said, it never hurts to use an independent brain, and I’ll keep assessing what they’re telling me one item at a time. Thanks for stopping by!

      (And I really don’t mind if they throw keggers and orgies in the window sills–just so long as they don’t keep me up at night.)

  20. Greg Olear says:

    This gave me chills. And I totally believe that you’re right.

    Great post, Aaron. Good to have you back around.

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Thanks so much, Greg! I plan on being much more active now. My novel is in production, and I’ve got about 7 months to meet a billion people online before it comes out.

      It’s good to be back.

  21. D.R. Haney says:

    This is an original, one-of-a-kind post, as I’ve been meaning to say for some time, Aaron. It’s not one that I’ll soon forget, if ever.

  22. Yvonne de la Vega says:

    Dear Aaron,

    I actually haven’t laughed out loud while reading someone’s short story in a very long time. I hear ya… I am so down with what you’re saying here. an thank you for the laughs, sincerely – thanks!

    Divination actually does come in many forms. and when we don’t seek to divinate (yes, I invented the word but means what I’m saying) divination will come to us. Divination is the rhythm of the cosmos, of the universe holding our truths right there in front of our faces so we may have answers to questions that we ask, and in your case questions we need to ask but are so caught up, we forget.

    The spiders and every creature with the breath of life are here for us to read, just like tarot, like animal totems, like dice.

    I had a trail of ants just recently during the rain. I told them they could hang out as long as they didn’t touch the catfood, mess with my trash cans or my floors and as long as they stayed in line formation on the back splash behind my sink, and all along the back of my countertops. They obeyed. We lived together for a while.

    Now – I know that Ants, they represent “patience”. And at that time, I was going through one of the rudest heartbreaks I had ever encountered, and when they appeared on the back splash of my kitchen I was relieved. I was in the middle of the most self pitying cry session, where sobbing out loud and all alone is a sick masochistically over dramatizing exercise because really your audience of one is really enjoying the show and so you never stop the performance in an effort to give, give give your all. Then I saw the ants. And the word “Patience” popped into my head. Just like your spiders talked to you, except ants are a hundred moving things in representation of one body. Ewe, kind of like Beelzebub in a swarm of wasps. But these were ants.

    Patience. It hit me into immediate silence, give or take a remnant snap sigh/heave. Patience. I suddenly knew that if I were calm and … patient, that this too, would soon come to pass. And it did. and when it did, the ants left too.

    So you go with your bad self. Read those Daddy log legs. And know that they eat mosquitos, therefore, the windowsill was an offer they could not refuse. and they had your back babe, your bare back. No mosquito bites for a while I bet.

    Great story Aaron, thanks again.

    Only Love,
    Yvonne de la Vega

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Yvonne–Lovely response! I loved reading it, and I could feel the goosebumps of connection, there, while I read it. Truly, you are a communicator.

      And this comment–begged to be read out loud because I suspect you cannot put words on the screen without making them live like spoken communication. That shows right through everything.

      Love that you got through to ants–I’m going to try that again sometime. Yes, I can do it.

      It is VERY nice that you’re here on TNB! Only love, back at ya’.

      And typos are part of the fun. You gave us spiders with colds. The poor things! I need a tiny handkerchief, just in case.

  23. Yvonne de la Vega says:

    daddy log legs. those are spiders with a cold. please fix my typos in your head as you read, sorry. 😉

  24. Sarah says:

    Wow. Thank you for posting your experience!
    I have had more spiders in my home in the past 2 years than I have ever seen, hands down, in one place in my life. I stumbled on this page while looking up information about what spiders have to teach us because tonight I had 3 Grand daddy long legs crawl across my computer desk, a large wolf spider in my bathroom, and a big ugly black jumping spider on my front porch (Which I noticed as I was taking a daddy long legs outside.)
    I freak out when I see spiders. Screaming, jumping on chairs, “Kill it! Kill it!!” and I don’t know why. Logically, I know they’re not going to hurt me (Though we do have Brown Recluse and Black Widow’s here, so illogically everytime I see a spider it’s just got to be one of those poisonous ones!) but something inside of me screams when I see them. I’ve always thrown shoes at them and smashed them on sight. I made a deal with them in my head a long time ago “You don’t come inside, I don’t kill you outside.” Which I’m pretty sure I’ve broken my end of that bargain on more than one occasion.
    Hands down scariest spider experience – A wolf spider about the size of a silver dollar with a million baby spiders on it’s back was crawling in my sink…My dad grabbed a can of bug spray and doused that sucker till it was a white foaming mess….I peered over the giant pillow I grabbed as a shield just in time to see these huge white foam covered legs climb over a sponge. It felt like a scene from a horror movie!!
    I’ve never considered just leaving them alone and letting them do what it is they have to do.
    I’m going to have to try to control my urge to scream next time I see one and try to strike up a reasonable deal with it. It makes me wonder what message all these spiders have tried to communicate to me. I’ve seen posts saying they are telling you to write, some say they are trying to tell you to look at your choices because our choices weave the web of our lives. Whatever the message, I need to hurry up and learn it! These spiders are driving me crazy!

    • Aaron Dietz says:

      Thanks for commenting, Sarah! I hope you get a handle on what all this means, soon. It’s important to be patient, though, and to be tolerant. Remember, they know you probably as well as you know yourself, so don’t make them any promises you can’t keep. Deal with them as honestly as you can, and take baby steps if you need to. I started out making smaller agreements with them on my way to being comfortable with leaving them alone. I don’t know if I could have leapt all the way there in the first jump.

      If you have experience with meditation, that can help, though my girlfriend has started using my approach (sitting still, closing my eyes, trying to let thoughts pop into my head until the right one pops in and the spider leaves), and she has no meditation experience and has gotten it to work (I think twice).

      Also–it may help you to know that generally the Brown Recluse and other dangerous spiders know where you sleep. If they really want to bite you, they can, and they will. This may be a scary thought, but it helps me understand that usually when I SEE a spider, it’s because they want me to see them and don’t intend to bite me. If they want to bite me, they know I’d be an easy target. I’m big, and I sleep in the same place every night. Happy future to you! And let me know how your situation develops!

  25. light and sound machine, brain machine,meditation…

    […]Aaron Dietz | Spiders Are My Spiritual Advisors | The Nervous Breakdown[…]…

  26. Beautiful and sensitive reflections. Thank you, Aaron.

  27. Kwan says:

    I’ve seen many huntsman spiders in my home. Just for some kind of reason, all of them seem to have a missing leg ;the second from the front on the right side…..and I’m the first person who spots it. .I don’t have any ideas about what this means.

  28. Mark says:

    Spiders, along with every other bug, terrify me to no end. They don’t need that many eyes, and they certainly don’t need that many legs or that aversion to personal space. They just need to stop! I’ve always been terrified of them.
    Just the other day a huge daddy long legs was clinging to the ceiling of my shower. I was petrified. Admittedly, I called the resident spider killer and made her grab it in a tissue and toss it outside.
    I thought I might be relatively safe until I woke up this morning from a terrifying nightmare and found a—you guessed it—a daddy long legs just chilling on my pillow right next to my head. Naturally, I shrieked and scrambled to the other edge of the bed, immediately forming plans to snatch the Raid and deal with this menace. When I finally got up the courage to do so, the thing vanished. I found it, and then it vanished again somewhere in my sheets. I don’t know where the hell it is and I’m much too frightened to sleep in my bed. I’m not sure why I’m so scared of them. They’re just… scary.
    It’s a little odd that so many daddy long legs have been appearing, however. I’ve been hearing about them a lot too, and thinking about them for reasons I can’t quite explain. I just really hope they don’t have an affinity for me, I’m not sure I could handle that. I just want to calm down from my nightmares in peace, not go into cardiac arrest!

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