GRAPHIC PICTURE ALERT. Whoops, too late.
The room is all white – floor, ceiling, walls. The furniture made out of lucite, perfectly transparent. The corners are free of any clutter so they can be viewed at all times. The windows are shut. Hermetically sealed, actually. No paintings, no curtains, no closets. One way in and one way out.
Nowhere to hide.
I stand up. Hi, I’m Cleo. And I’m a recovering arachnophobe.
It’s taken the better part of my adult life to work with my fear of spiders, taking it from an irrational fear to a level fairly common among chicks when faced with eight legs that can outrun our eyesight, leaving us catatonic, wondering where the faceless monster may end up.
When I was a child my mom would find me frozen in a garden, literally petrified by a spider the size of my thumb nail. Alone and confronted by a ‘der (the cute moniker I coined because I couldn’t say the word spider without heaving) I would sob, feeling violated merely by its presence.
I avoided grass, the woods, picnic tables, and leaf piles – I was convinced they were ‘der condos designed by Frank Lloyd Wright-nid. Promises of chocolate, trips to Disneyland and endless hours of pong weren’t enough to convince me to pull a log from a woodpile. In the summer my father would assign me a garden to weed before he left for work. I would spend the first five hours surveying it for movement. The next two crying. And the last weeding with my eyes closed. By the ninth hour I was emotionally drained.
To this day, I see pachysandra as basically green beach umbrellas shading thousands of ‘ders from having to look into my fear-slathered face.
Winter was my refuge, after all the ‘ders who ventured indoors had been discovered. I once threw up in the shower after pulling back the curtain to find a black as night, plump ‘der, made all the more horrifying by the backdrop of a white, porcelain tub. If I remember correctly, it had the head of Vincent Price and the body of the Hulk, only not green.
That is until I threw up on it.
Pre-dudes I had an urge to head to Costa Rica for a month to finish a book I was writing at the time. A book that sits on my closet shelf – 50,000 words of run-on sentences that will one day…still sit on my closet shelf. I found an elevated bungalow near Manuel Antonio, nestled hillside among the palms and tropical trees of the jungle that met the ocean. Nothing could be more romantic than hoisting the shutters that open on pulleys, removing any barrier to the world outside. I could sit on my native wood bench, legs tucked under a desk, as I clicked out the final pages of a novel that was all beginning and no middle or end. The ocean my mirror.
I emailed back and forth with the owner of the bungalow about my needs and timeframe. His responses were lengthy sales pitches on the attributes of his rustic retreat in the coastal jungle. All was settled until I asked this one last question: What about spiders? His reply:
It’s like a Hitchcock movie.
One sentence with no comforting add-on about how they mind their own business or prefer the outdoors to the interior of the bungalow. My reply was equally as succinct:
I can’t handle that.
I did make it to Costa Rica with The Genius for a scant four days. Those days passed as if time was tripled, my every move made with the forethought of needing to be certain that no arachnid would yell, Surprise!, it’s web descending on me like tossed confetti. When we departed for our trek home, The Genius confessed that while it may have appeared he skimmed the pool daily as meditation, he was actually removing drowned tarantulas.
Sweet.
I don’t have a specific memory of why I developed (was born with?) arachnophobia, but I remember why I decided that I had to face my fear and transform it: I didn’t want to pass the phobia on to my children. It took years to convert my fear into respect, even admiration. I can now look at a picture of a spider and not recoil in disgust, terror forcing its way up through my throat like spoiled fish 20 minutes after ingestion.
Doesn’t mean I want to shack up with them.
When I made the decision to move to Bolinas it wasn’t without deep thoughts. But, truth be told, my intuition led the way. After two years in Marin, I had only ventured down the unmarked road to Bolinas once, mere weeks before signing the lease. Once was all it took. On that trip I don’t recall saying to myself, This is home, but I do recall feeling at peace. Natural. Hair down, makeup free, not caring if my bra strap was showing or my toenail polish was 3 months worn. I didn’t feel like I had to fit in, or that I didn’t fit in. It all just felt so right. I’m grateful that, on some level within, I was listening and didn’t pause when I saw the listing for The Calmmune.
Those first few weeks post move were challenging. But not enough to make me question my choice to make west Marin our home. Not sulfur water nor gas prices nor coyotes howling on my doorstep made me wish for the hustle and bustle of over the hill. Much like living in Costa Rica, although certainly not as remote or wild, there are trade-offs to living on the edge of land. Forethought is a forgone conclusion. One must plan in advance in order to be organized enough to enjoy living here. A carefree state of being is a must.
And one must be ready to embrace nature.
The bees. In hindsight, about as upending as watching a cloud float across the sky. The snake. A tiny reptile who lost his way. The lizard I found in the dudes’ room? A bonus as far as they were concerned.
And then there was…
The Tarantula.
Yep. I kid you not. A freaking tarantula. A genuine, original, honest-to-goodness, massive, huge, legs as long as Gisele’s, tarantula.
That begs for the classic line: If you had told me ten years ago that I would be living in a place that…is also home to tarantulas, I would have said, You’re quite mistaken. Mad. Never. It’s unnecessary. There are a million places to live where the only tarantulas are those in pet stores.
I sat at the head of our kitchen table, a position I had not taken before that night, trolling the net for a used car that got a lot more out of gas than my 4Runner. Prior, I would have had my back to the wall lined with the sink, dishwasher and stove. It was from that general direction, early on the morning of the 10th, that I became intimate with the largest spider I have ever seen in person. (I’m not including the ones that were in the museum cases I viewed as part of my systematic desensitization therapy.)
While he made no sound, I heard him. He didn’t move really fast, although I’m certain he could sprint like Usain Bolt. Because he was so big, why bother? Most people would simply step aside. Or, in my case, scream like a fox, flail about like Linda Blair and eventually kill it with one eye closed and the other crying.
This all went down really fast. In 5 seconds I reflected back on my awful experience with the snake and the 45 minute torture session that both of us were put through for no good reason. That can’t happen again. While I search for most things on a daily basis, I knew exactly where the spider spray was located – first can, right in front, under the sink. I grabbed it, pointed it at him. We locked eyes, my two, his 5000, for a split second, and then I commenced firing.
To him it was like a spring shower.
He fell to his knees and then stood back up. I sprayed harder and somehow was able to watch the scene unfold. The half full can was getting lighter and he was not getting anywhere close to dead. As he made his way to the opening under the stove I feared I would lose him to a fully staffed arachnid emergency room where he would be rebuilt, badder and meaner than before, and sent back to me, now bionic.
Beside me was a mop, still wet from an AM cleaning session. I grabbed it and plunged it upon him, once, twice. He fought back. Three times and I sensed his demise.
The mop dropped from my hands. I stood there and took stock of my body. My heart was beating but not racing. I didn’t feel violated. A smile emerged. I was intact. Then, for the first time ever, I felt sad at having ended the life of a spider. But triumphant for not having hurled or passed out cold. And in a moment deserving of being recorded in HGM history, I did not cry.
I chugged a glass of water, turned out the light and went to bed, leaving the carcass and implement of death lying where they fell.
The next day a kitten tweeted a few fascinating tidbits about the animal totem meaning behind the spider. I took that as a cue to do some due diligence. What I found left me speechless. Wordless. And wondering how I can, as the murderer, avenge the death of that which I killed with my own hands, albeit via a mop and poison.
The spider is the keeper of letters and books. The architect of the primordial alphabet. They remind us that what we do now is weaving what we will encounter in our future. They teach us how to harness our creative forces and channel them through writings. They preach balance – between the feminine and masculine, the past and future, and the physical and spiritual plane. Those who weave magic with the written word likely have as their totem animal the spider.
Super. I killed (and overkilled several before him) the messenger sent to encourage me to continue to follow my dreams of spinning words into stories that touch hearts, create laughter, bring forth emotion and help to heal wounds.
I cried that next day. (shocker) Feeling like a smacked ass for needing to end the life of a incredible creator out of irrational fear.
Sadly, if faced with the same set of circumstances, I’m not sure I have the fortitude necessary to escort the eight-legged furball outside. But I’ll have to find it because I cannot take the life of something that is so closely aligned with my spirit. Oh, how I wish I had never come to fear them.
Fear.
It’s time to spend time with fear.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Please follow me on twitter, especially if you can get here fast enough to help me not kill a spider.
OOOOh. Dear. God. !! that thing is huge !! ugh, don’t beat yourself up, i think anyone would have reacted the same way you did, and if the mop wasn’t handy and the spray ran out before it did, god knows what i would have done next ?? throw the can at him? throw at chair at him? throw myself out the door never to return and then pay the rent for the spider ??
make yourself feel better and chalk it off to “Mom protecting the dudes” and if there is a next encounter with one that size, simply open the door and throw a ball, chances are that thing would go fetch !! LOL then slam that door and hope it doesn’t return the ball for more!! Your doing a fabulous job i’m so proud of you and miss you dearly
C,
Oh, my! Fetch! Hey, with all those hands maybe he could wash my car. Imagine the massage! Or…I should stop.
He was one substantial ‘der. His gift to me was an encounter so intense that the animal totem meaning is not to be ignored. I will be pondering fear on a coastal hike today. If I’m the first on the trail I get to walk through all the webs!
Wow…I cannot believe I am actually cool with that. I miss you, too, m’lady.
Love yourself,
Cleo
C-
Spiders are and can be intimidating. Though I’m not afraid of them, I prefer they don’t invade my space. That being said, I’ve heard peppermint oil keeps the little buggers away.
Live, laugh and love life
H
H,
Thank you for the tip! I’ve got the peppermint packs in the kitchen already…for the mouse. I feel like I’m running a shelter for animals that terrify people. I’ll be getting the oil today!
Love yourself,
Cleo
I’m one of those people who “escorts” spiders outside, but I have a similar reaction to big red trucks (my ex’s mode of transportation). Hey, there’s an idea — just throw a rope around that mack truck of a spider and ride him to work, forget about the new/used car! But just because I’m a writer and just because I don’t kill spiders doesn’t mean I want them as my totem. I’ll take it as a good sign that there seem to be so many around here (they’re nothing like your ginormous mutant spider), but give me a friendly black lab any day.
Holy Arachnid…Bat-Girl!! I have never been so terrified as I read this post!! Good God…the tall one and the little dude could have ridden on that bad boy!!
Sometimes a totem animal shows up just for confirmation…a signpost pointing to the illuminated path!! Re-confirmation…ur right where you’re supposed to be!! Doin what you’re supposed to be doing!
You certainly lightened my day with humour and joy…even after such a horrible encounter…I felt like I was there..and you were making me laugh!
When I lived in Manhatten…one day I came home..went into the bathroom and was getting ready to take a shower…looked down and say a 10″…I kid u not…water bug..looks like a roach..with tentacles that looked like they were waving at me.!!
I couldn’t call the super…I was illegally sub-letting…so I left. Later a friend of mine came by and he killed him.
My friend said…glad he stayed in the tub…God knows where he could have ended up!
The suggestion was to get a cover for the drain…a metal one…and keep it closed. Apparently the underground critters like to visit apartments in NYC through the plumbing! Gross.
…with love!! JoJo XO
J,
Thank goodness it was only a water bug! Holy 10 inches! That’s large. Whoa. They’re not fun – well, the dudes think they’re hilarious.
It’s important to cultivate friendships with ‘removers’. So far I haven’t found any takers. I’d be foolish to believe my Mutual of Bolinas, Wild Kingdom encounters are over.
I’m glad you enjoyed the tale. Telling it was fun, too. Thank you for being here and for taking the time to comment.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Hi Cleo!
Beyond proud of the ‘der encounter! I know it was an outrageous experience for you.. It was no accident that he ambled into your view. You have worked so hard to gain to your acceptance of spiders…. They no longer overwhelm you or paralyze you with fear and irrationality. You are now able to act in a conscious and pro-active manner when you see a spider. Much the same way you now are able to encounter TG…. No more fear. You have won. Wish I could have been a fly on the wall!!
Perhaps you didn’t take the spider’s life, but took his life INTO yours….
P,
Oh – how Jeff Goldblum!!! (*Okay, it’s 9:43 PM PST on April 15th – I googled Jeff Goldblum to check the spelling of his last name and saw his picture and thought – wow, he’s hot. Every decade the dude just kept getting hotter. I wonder if he’s married… And then…I see a post that he died today in a fall in New Zealand on a movie set. I’m hoping this is a hoax and that he will call me and ask me to go hiking.) Back to my reply…breath…
Yes, you do know. (P.C. was my college roommate and, later we shared a summer house on Long Island) I imagine you witnessed a few of my panic sessions when faced with the ‘ders. Epic fear. Oh – the time you took me to Lake Winnipesaukee and we slept in the Welcome House! The freaking House of Terror is more like it! Hey Zues! I have never spent the night with so many spiders walking around like it was the floor of the Museum of Art on a Saturday morning!
Those beers I drank in the raft at 4PM? To deal. Simply to deal.
No more fear…well, time spent with fear, renaming it. That’s my experiment. Rename it, transform it, manifest magic with it.
Much love, m’lady.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I likewise LOATHE spiders…it seems odd that I adore insects, but for some reason those extra two legs freak me out! I totally get it. Can’t blame you at ALL for your reaction. That being said, my best friends mom used to always say “If in this world you live and thrive, let the spider run alive” and it stuck with me. So though I can’t stand them, I can’t bring myself to ever kill one.
I once freaked out because one was in our house and my poor husband tried to be a hero and killed it for me. He will never do that again. I think I was more upset that he killed it than the fact it was invading my space.
Having something to fear keeps us in our place. Not all fear is bad, it can be very healthy.
Keep writing…you inspire others.
G,
I love Geckos. LOVE. How about we transform LOATHE into LOVE for our arachnid friends, former foes?
This I love: “If in this world you live and thrive, let the spider run alive.” I must get clever and design a system for critter relocation.
Fear certainly keeps us alert, aware. That same state of awareness, sans fear, opens the eyes to magic.
Thank you for your kind words. It’s a 360 – I am inspired daily by the kittens and the brave way they meet the challenges of their lives. I’m so blessed to be in their midst. I’m grateful you take the time to read my words. Stay close…
Love yourself,
Cleo
Well that was me tweeting about the spider and its totem. Glad you took the time to read up on it further ( 140 characters on a Tweet- pffft not enough ).
As I mentioned, the only atonement I could find ( and trust me, I LOOKED) for taking the life of a ‘der ( ha ! ) was to kill 53 flies in his honour. While I’m certain you are far too busy for that ( and more killing is not the answer, as discussed), it is an option. ( please don’t kill 53 flies).
However, I know you feel bad about dispatching said ‘der, and hopefully the Goddess of Karma will take that into consideration. I believe that even though you ended the ‘der’s journey, it may be that this was meant to be. ( as everything happens for a reason). You were meant to send the ‘der to his maker, and his message WAS delivered so perhaps his time was done. You realize the error of your ways, you did your due dilligence regarding the ‘message’ and have learned from this that being an ‘aracno-spray, swiffer sweeper,mop totin’ mama is not always the answer. I try very hard to not end the life of other critters and hope you can do the same. It always feels better to help them along their path instead of ending their journey.
( I’m in Canada… I will put them outside in the temperate months, but I’ll let you in on a little secret, when its COLD, ‘ders are gently placed into the houseplants that live in the warmest window, with strict instructions to STAY THERE ~ or else ! )
I hope they do, ( you were warned ‘der,,, you were warned) and hope they return the favour by eating any other crawlie that might want to wander about the house. Take heed the message.. and get yourself a dream catcher. The bead in the center represents the spider weaver. The ‘web’ of the dream catcher keeps bad dreams OUT and keeps good dreams IN. Take care, and take heed the words of your latest messenger.
L,
You nailed it on those tweets. You sent the message I needed to receive right then. You were the catalyst for a lot of intense pondering the past few days. Thank you.
You would think I would have at some point looked it up, right? I check out the totems for all intense animal encounters. But I am certain I would not have looked up spider. Not for a long, long time – if ever. I’ve trained myself to not be curious about them, to avoid them. I’m so grateful you took the time to clue me in.
To see the spider’s relationship to the written word and have that beautiful tale of the spider spinning the first alphabet cloaked, smothered, in my fear is not to be dismissed. The idea teeters between bad Hollywood movie – arachnophobic budding novelist befriends tarantula who ghost writes her first novel by tapping it out with all 8 legs on an iPad, and a perfect illustration of how our lives are so intertwined with nature.
Spiders in house plants – one of my nightmares. I put my basil plant outside one day last week and didn’t bring it in that night. So there it sits, shivering, because I don’t want to bring in any new guests who’s legs outnumber mine. That’s my rule. Which leaves me prey to snakes. But I have mice, so as long as they’re not poisonous and ticked off, I’ll deal.
Your comment caused me to pause and release the need to kill first and regret it later. Now I will investigate and pursue all possible options as I partner with any future lost ‘ders in an effort to get them back to their space ship. That’s it! I’ll just pretend they’re as cute as E.T.!
Thank you, m’lady.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I used to work at a University where my office was next door to an entomology lab. One day a girl who worked there came into my office to let me know that they were missing their Chilean tarantula. It eats birds and is the size of a dinner plate. Could I please watch out for it and let them know if I saw it in my office? I was like, are you effing kidding me?!?!?!? Two days later they found the spider, and it wasn’t in my office, and I was happy about that.
H,
I read your comment the day it came in and then had to block it out for the vision of the ‘der you describe was a touch more than my being could handle. I try to forget those exist. And the fact that one could get out of its
cratecage, is terrifying. It would not have to get within 10 feet of an arachnophobe to cause death. For real. At the height of my fear, had I seen one, I would have dropped dead.Death by irrational fear. What a waste.
2 days?????? I would be working from home. I wouldn’t care if they fired me. As a matter of fact, I would have probably quit.
Size of a dinner plate…I’m going to get sick…
Love yourself,
Cleo
Okay. So I just woke up to a massive spider on the wall, and instead of crying (maybe just a little) I grabbed the nearest rain boot and sent it off to spider heaven. It was nowhere near the same size as that hell beast of yours but a year ago (when I was still living with my ex!) I would’ve left it under… something, and someone else would have had to deal with it. And of course I come onto your page and here you are too, conquering demons of all shapes and sizes! Way to go, team
G,
Look at us! Connected by something that is so strong…what is the strongest fiber, thread, rope? Oh – one that is spun. So. Not. Surprised. We are standing on our own two feet in spite of our fear of those with eight, G. We can defend ourselves. Perhaps the next step is to be more vulnerable, feel more secure, and let love sooth fear.
Thank you for sharing this with us. I love the synergy.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I eventually got over my fear of Potato Bugs ( childhood based nonsense), and I know you can overcome this fear. Spiders can be removed, alive, very easily.
Find a vase, or large mouthed jar that you can cover the whole spider with. lay the opening over the spider and he is trapped. He is not going anywhere until you free him outside, far outside. Using cardstock, slide the thick paper under the edge of the vase, and gently push the paper under the spider. let him hang out for a bit, most spiders will climb up the side, then you just use a spatula to lift the paper and jar up, invert it, and there you have it. easy-peasy spider removal. once you are outside, walk far from your living space and lay the jar on its’ side and the spider will walk out and find a new home…it really, really works.
Best of luck!
M,
I have this scene in my head. A small classroom with the chairs in a circle, seven seats filled.
Okay, group, let’s go around one by one and state your fear. Steve, why don’t you go first?
Hi. I’m arachnophobic.
Beth?
I have a fear of needles, and I’m diabetic. It’s rough.
Joshua?
Claustrophobic, aviophobic, acrophobic and agoraphobic.
Mimi?
Um…I’m afraid of…….potato bugs.
M, I am not poking fun because I truly understand phobias. Intimately. But the scene just burst through. Not to diminish a fear of potato bugs. Mr. Viking shared with me that his brother was terrified of them. I had not seen one so I looked them up online, even though Mr. Viking said they were ten times creepier than tarantulas – eek! This is one illustration of why phobias are fascinating – I think potato bugs are super cool looking. I’d love to see one in person.
Now, onto your tutorial on trap and release. I am not ready to get that close. Unless I can get the Cat in the Hat to drop off his big hand contraption, I am not putting a vase, and bowl or any other suitable object over a ‘der that sizable. I am not ready for that. Seriously. My stomach just lurched at the thought. But I am spending time on this one – I may not be phobic, but I don’t want to fear them. They, too, are super cool. So, if you are in west Marin, I would like to know that you would drop a vase for me. Rock on, M.
Love yourself,
Cleo
not in Bo-Bo any more…but we used to live in the A-frame cabin next to the BPUD (Bolinas Public Utility District) on Elm Road. Got married in the BPUD actually…spent much of my 20′s in Bo, and it will always hold a piece of my heart. Wish I was down the road still for spider removal, but I am an hour north now. Best. M.
M,
You must let me know if you are ever back in the Bo! I am so grateful to have found The Calmmune. And this town – my goodness, it’s so perfect in all it’s quirkyness. So far my favorite aspect is how sleepy it is during the week and how social it is on the weekends with the influx of those who find their way here. I am 100% smitten. And already in training for the tug of war!
Thank you for taking the time to comment and for being here.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Even better – an insect vacuum!
So glad you gained a different perspective on our arachnid friends. I love spider webs with dew on them on a summer morning — they’re magical. I guess I was influenced enough by _Charlotte’s Web_ that I have since childhood respected and admired them.
So when I read that you sent your 8-legged visitor to that great web in the sky I was really, really sad. And I perked up as I read of your change of heart.
So on behalf of the many shy, talented webspinners who live in our corner of the Universe, I thank you.
Love yourself anew, because you are.
Deborah
D,
As with so much in my life, I am finding that it takes time to undo the training. Today I caught a glimpse of something black in my hair. Uh-huh. A ‘der. With this mop I knew I couldn’t just flip him out so off I ran to the bathroom for a brush. I couldn’t tell what it ws so I ripped the brush through my hair (OUCH!) and out he flew to the floor where I reflexively stepped on him.
What? Why did I do that? He wasn’t even that big! I was so disappointed in my response. So without thought. I guess I’m still learning. On so many levels. It was an unconscious move that I will not repeat.
Today was a day when loving myself carried me through the upheaval. So grateful for the reminders from all of you that love and compassion rule, and spiders deserve to live, too. Thank you, D.
Love yourself,
Cleo