It was certainly interesting to learn your perspective on this. I have a sort of code that I follow with spiders.
If a spider is in my domain, and I can positively identify it as being poisonous to humans, I will kill it. My fealty is to humanity first, and I attempt to destroy potentially deadly invaders into our domains. Black widows are fond of building in human structures outdoors, so I am often looking for and killing them. They like to build in places like little holes in a block wall, a barbeque pit, or under a flowerpot -- places where a child might unthinkingly put its hand. If I can positively identify a spider as being relatively harmless to humans (these are usually the non-web-builders who you find running about on the floor or in the garden), I will attempt to relocate it if it is convenient to do so. Otherwise, I just let it go. If I'm in doubt about the identity of the spider, I may kill it anyway, just to be safe. I especially do this with web-builders. My cat has her own code in regards to spiders and scorpions, however. She thinks they're fun to play with, but she's a bit rough with her playmates. Regards, Charybdis On Sat, Aug 8, 2009 at 5:19 PM, John Carl <[email protected]> wrote: > I hate people who hate bugs. > > > I can't help it. When I see one, I shudder with revulsion and if they come > near me I shriek with fear and go stand on a chair. I know they have their > place in Nature's scheme, but its a visceral reaction on my part over which > I have no control. > > > I don't necessarily want them poisoned or stepped on, I just need somebody > to deal with them for me. Brush 'em out of my house and out of my life so > I don't have to look at them or deal with them at all. > > > Last weekend, my father-in-law's wife, Chris, married for a few years now > after his first, my wife's mom, died of cancer. Chris saw a beetle in my > kitchen and she gasped. I jerker around expecting to find the refrigerator > on fire, but no, it was a beetle. > > > "You don't like bugs?" I asked. > > > "No!" she exclaimed, "I'm allergic." > > > "Well", I replied, "the best thing to do is let them crawl all over you > then. Allergies are caused by underexposure. Allergies are an > inappropriate immune system over-reaction due to too little experience with > the 'foreigner'." > > > She gave me a strange look and soon got out of my house. I didn't even > need help brushing her away or have to stand on a chair and shriek. > > > She's a sweet enough person, I suppose. But she is from Southern > California, which is bad enough, but even worse she used to work in > Hollywood as a sound editor (even got an emmy once for her work on Lonesome > Dove) and she name-drops all the time in the most annoying fashion. I > could > put up with celebrity worship, I guess. For a short time. But bug-hating > puts her beyond the pale. > > > There was one incident in my house where I didn't mind the person's fear of > bugs; when we hosted the "Chernobyl Children". Olia didn't like bugs. I > cut her some slack because A: she was cute and B: If you live most of the > year in radiation which is invisible and killing you, you're allowed some > displacement quirks. She hated the term "Chernobyl Children" btw. She > said > it sounded like they were all afflicted with, as she termed it with a > spastic expression, "Syndrome Downs". She always wanted Americans to be > aware that there were no infirmities or inferiorities about her person or > intellect in any way. And she never met an American who disagreed. > > > > When she went into sobbing hysterics on the night she was supposed to go > back to Belarus, Lu asked her what was wrong and she went into a quite a > long crying jag in Russian that nobody could understand, but seemed to > satisfy her need to explain herself. At the end of her tirade, lifting her > tear-streaked face to Lu and I hovering worriedly over her, she could only > inform us of the reason for her fear of spiders was, "They have reevers of > knowing". > > > Now did she mean "Rivers" or "Reavers"? At the time, it sounded like > "reavers", but I'm pretty sure she meant "rivers". She didn't know the > english word "reaver" but she absolutely knew the word "river". What > tingles my memories still, is spiders as "reevers of knowing" in the > beautious ambiguity which means so much more than either of its > alternatives. > > > Because I think they truly might be. Whatever she meant, to this day I > like > to think of spiders as both "reavers of knowing" and "rivers of knowing" > They are so sensitive to vibration with their slender webs quivering in > the > ether and living by what comes. > > > I told my son, who is eight, that spiders catch bad dreams in their webs, > and the scarier-looking the spider, the better they are at catching > nightmares. Sometimes the fearsome job demands the fearsome aspect. Now > that's an interesting truth in that it is based on fancy, but by its > utterance becomes reality. My son is not afraid of either spiders or > dreams > as a consequence of a fancy. > > > > Now, of course you'd have to be plumb out of almost a thousand better > alternatives in the social realm to be glad of a spider's company, but > that's pretty much where I was at in the summer of '84, really out, really > done with that girl who hated me for all I was best at, my first wife, D. > and all on my own, living like a turtle with the world on its back. > > > Kids, let it be a warning to you. Don't get married at 19 to your very > first and only girlfriend experience. All I ever wanted was to make a > family in the world I'd been born into. And here I was, seven years later, > living out of the back of my VW Pickup Campershell and wondering if I'd > ever > find another woman to love me, wondering where I was headed and what I was > gonna do. > > > I started by going on a canoe trip down the Feather River with my best > friend Griego. After I got back from that trip, I went by myself on a > river, the American, way above Sacramento, for a week and a half in a green > idylic Eden that only lacked an Eve or I might be there still. > > > I wasn't in a home anymore so I guess I was ... camping? It sounded better > than homeless. > > > Anyway, I wasn't homeless. I had my vehicle. In America, I think what we > mean by "homeless" is actually "vehicleless" because as long as you can get > from place to place, you can sleep in your car, or friend's couches. But > once you lose that magic carpet, you're on the street, a shamblin' bum. > > > The place I encountered my spider friend was also on the American, but much > lower down. We'd let in at Salmon Falls bridge and canoed down the upper > reaches of the reservoir to a nice camp site. Me. My friend Griego, his > girl Monique and his two kids from his wife Jan. > > > I was really counting on Griego at this moment in my history. When he'd > been castaway for his playboy proclivities by Jan, D and I, still a stable > married couple, had been open, generous and sharing to the lonely bachelor. > Now here I was, on my own and needing some payback support and "shoulder to > cry on" type affirmation like I'd given in my turn. So I was expectant... > which always leads to trouble. > > > And then there was the Monique issue. I quite fancied her. She was > exactly > opposite my ex's physique and attitude and that was a draw, but she > attracted men anyway in that sylph - like way some women have. Dark hair, > brown eyes, pretty, petite, quiet. A good listener in her peaking-out-from > her hair way with laughter at the right moments. For me, that's always the > killer. > > > But in this situation, her main adversary is Griego's wife, and any concern > out of friendship for me and my situation pales in consideration. > > > While Griego must balance playing with his girlfriend and his best friend, > he's also brought his kids. > > > So what this all adds up to, my unhappy camper, is the bluest, loneliest > and > saddest feeling yours truly can remember in his almost 50 years of before > and since. All these people with their competing social connections, and > me, severed of all. Worse than that first time at pathfinder camp spent > stumbling through strange rows of white tents and wondering whether I would > ever find my group... and that time there were silent tears streaming down > my face, this time it was just an empty ache in my heart wondering if I'd > ever find somebody to love. > > > And prayer. I prayed like hell. I prayed so hard that if my prayers had > been answered and a ski boat of bikini-clad coeds had broken down on our > beach, I'd probably have to be some sort of televangelistica today. Thank > god that didn't happen though. Instead I found a spider on my shoulder. > > > Small, hairy little spider, of a certain jumping, rather than web-waiting > variety. We became friends and it amazed me how faithfully that little > spider would return to its perch on my shoulder, sharing with it's compound > eyes, my perspective on the world and if knocked off in some rambunctious > game of frisbee with Griego's kids, would return, scrambling a tenuous web > that bound us together for a brief time. > > > Tom Hanks? In Cast Away? Making a friend of a volleyball? I totally got > that scene. That is human truth in cinematic form, right there. We will > socialize, even if we have to go to great lengths to find our other. > > > The thing is, it worked. I sort of understood. If you have enough love > for > a spider, then believe me, more will come. A sort of ease passed through > my > mind where I was able to wait a bit. Be more patient. Get some > perspective. > > > Get some perspective!!! > > > That right there might be the most succinct, philosophical help I can give > anybody in three words or less. You really don't need much. Climb a > mountain and look down on your route. Identify yourself with a piece of > cosmos bigger than your own ego. For me, the spider friend gave me enough > perspective to realize my position in this camping trip was just not > appropriate, not working and not fun. I bailed. Next morning, I asked > Griego to paddle me back to my car. It was time to start sniffing around > Sierra College and what lay in store for me there next. I was out of here > as a prop in other's people's romantic drama. > > > As we near the bridge tho, I noticed a fluttering in the water, and found a > baby bird, just under the age where it could fly. Needing attention. So I > stayed the week, catching grasshoppers and feeding them into that tiny, > endless maw of hunger that baby birds possess. The new center of attention > from the kids, the girl and my own egoistic need to be needed. I was > healed. I was grateful. > > > I still am. I pass under a bridge and I think as a surrogate momma bird, > that some of my distant relatives might be darting for bugs. I see a > spider > and I don't think "ewww". I realize some people do and I don't argue with > them. I even agree that there is some "ewww" in their relationship with > the > spiders of the world. I just don't agree that the source of the ewwww is > in > the spider. The source is in the intellect of the ewwww'er. > Moq_Discuss mailing list > Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. > http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org > Archives: > http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ > http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/ > Moq_Discuss mailing list Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org Archives: http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/
