We can learn a lot from spiders.
For example: how to escape gravity. That is not to say we are all trapeze artists, capable of dancing through the air on silken cords. But rather to understand how to balance on a knife’s edge, to find a home and comfort millimeters from falling. How to resist the pull and instead keep one’s self aloft by the sheer sticky strength of will.
The value of patience, of waiting for hours on end in soft blanketed silence, statuesque, rooting yourself in the atmosphere, of becoming one with the sky. Perhaps then you learn to feel yourself as mere atoms, watch your fingertips become carbon, oxygen, hydrogen. Perhaps after a while you become a mere collage of electrons bound by surface tension, ready to evaporate at the slightest touch.
Depending less on one’s eyes, too. Understanding the world through touch and vibration. Knowing how we move. What a gift it would be to be fully conscious of every step through the world, of every brush with life.
Also, interconnectedness. Each strand of the house is built on the other is built on the other but is not codependent. They can exist half-formed and broken; they can form whole. It is circular. It all comes back to itself.