There’s a lot we can learn from spiders.

As I sit here at my desk waiting for a blast of inspiration, something shimmering in the morning light attracts my attention. I’ve told you I’m easily distracted and here is proof positive. There on the window ledge, between the storm and screen, drapes a beautiful work of art…and I behold!. An industrious spider is spinning a brand-new web. As she works, her creation becomes covered with glistening gems of morning dew. My wandering mind starts doing its thing.

I remember learning that while most all spiders have the ability to produce silk, it’s only the females of certain species that can spin these amazing webs. (If you’re an arachnologist reading this and it isn’t true, I sincerely apologize. Please correct me by using the comment button below.)  As I try to follow her strands from one connection to the next, it doesn’t surprise me that this is the work of a female. This intricate creation requires planning, patience, the need to unite, connect, relate.  Sound familiar?

As I muse about weaving and connecting, I am reminded now of the Navaho weavers – creators of incredibly beautiful rugs and other woven art. Each piece exhibits an intricate design made up of many stunning colors. These talented weavers believe that each piece they create tells a story and that each thread they use, connecting one to the next, contributes to the telling of that particular story. The threads also add to the beauty and strength of the finished work. Further, while weaving these “masterpieces”, they purposely introduce an imperfection into the design. Their reason? It’s said that this “mistake” is a necessary reminder that they are human – imperfect – so their creations, too,  must be less than perfection.

There are valuable lessons here for me.

Both weavers, the spider and the Navaho artisan, are women, and I don’t think this is by chance. There is something in our feminine nature that makes connecting both necessary and, thankfully, natural. I consider all the connections, random and not, that I stumble upon each and every day – that all too often I casually dismiss. I am realizing now that, like the gossamer threads spun by the spider, and the strong strands of many shades used by the Navaho weavers, each connection I make plays a role in my story. I am the weaver, but the people in my life, those deeply familiar and those with whom I engage ever so briefly, they are the design, the colors, the texture. It is the people who are part of my web that weave the strength and beauty into my life.

That spider has taught me much this morning.

Your thoughts?  In what ways do you weave and connect?  Leave comments here.