The space is good.
The silence is loud at first, but slowly the noise inside me quiets and I’m in solitude.
It rings in my ears, slowly gaining momentum.
Rushing at me, everything grows calm.
In these moments silence plants it seeds.
Seeds that grow into peace when I’m in the midst of the storm.
Here, now, in the moment, time evaporates.
I look down and see the tiny filaments of a spider web trailing across my knee. As I inspect more closely I can see the tiny arachnid culprit. His work is seemingly effortless and devoid of pain but incredibly fast and productive.
As I sit, the spider spins.
Have you ever sat long enough for a spider to use you as part of the anchor for his web?
I am struck by this experience where time slows, stopping for me as I embrace solitude and silence. All while the spider works. I need more moments like this. They ground me in the reality of my own smallness. They lift my eyes to the beauty and magnitude of the world around me.