Sometimes something can be like a cobweb. It's one of those things that you can't see until those sticky strands take an invisible grasp on some part of your body.
You can usually tell when someone walks into that fine thread, for they generally flail their arms in an obviously gut reaction to the surprise attack.
At times, in photographs, these webs can be beautiful, with the light shining through the almost clear membranes.
Some people may say that the construction of a spider web is a work of art. I suppose it is-- for the spider.
And maybe it can be viewed as art, from afar. I don't really like spiders, but I can appreciate their craft. I hate walking into their webs, and I, too, flail like anyone else when I encounter one. However, I do enjoy looking at photographs of webs. They're intricate, deliberate.
(google images for the picture)
Maybe this comparison is a cheap one, but I often think of certain memories as cobwebs. I don't go looking for painful reminders; rather, they sneak up on me with no warning. I desperately try to keep the flood at bay, but it is nearly impossible at times. I try and get the silk off of my body, but even after the strands are gone, it still feels like it's there.
There are instances where a distant view of a "web" is a good experience. It's not that I want to erase things, entirely... I just hate reliving things over, and over, and over again.
"In order to be created, a work of art must first of all make use of the dark forces of the soul. But not without channeling them, surrounding them with dikes, so that the water in them rises."
–Albert Camus
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I wrote this post this morning, and on the way back from taking the residents to see a show in Branson (The Duttons-- AMAZING!), one of the women was humming to herself. We started talking, and the conversation ended with this:
"I'm a happy old woman, and I don't care what you say. The good Lord didn't want us to cry, so we might as well laugh and enjoy life."
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So maybe I've been feeling like I keep walking into spider webs, but such is life?
