| Issue No.2, Vol.1


Silk

by John Urbancik
 

 
Old stories tell of a Navajo girl who spied smoke rising from a tiny hole in the ground in the barrens, and inside discovered the Spider Woman.  (Granted, these might not actually be Navajo stories, but instead attributed to them after the fact, and they do describe a very different Spider Woman than, say, the Lakota Grandmother Spider Woman.) Described as an ugly crone, she worked a stick between strands of thread.  When asked what she was doing, the crone said, “Weaving a blanket.”

 

Over the next few days, she taught the girl to weave.  And passed on a warning: that any blankets she wove must have what is now known as a spider hole in the center, else the fabric would trap your weaving thoughts and drive you mad.

             

Today’s Navajo blankets still have the spider hole.

Now, while we can spend hours debating why the Spider Woman wanted to teach this girl to

 

weave, it’s doubtful anyone would question why the crone would be called a Spider Woman.

             

Spiders weave.  Now, maybe some are hunters and don’t create fantastic webs in which to catch their prey, but even the hunters still spin silk.

             

In Ancient Greece, Arachne was a skilled weaver.  People traveled long distances for her wares, and of course they thought a mortal could only be so talented if she was touched by the gods.  When Arachne believed all the stories, she boasted that she was Athena’s better.  Athena, of course,being a goddess.  In disguise, Athena visited Arachne, warned the girl to be more respectful, and finally revealed herself as the goddess.  She accepted the girl’s challenge (a weaving contest).  Angered by the girl’s choice of subject matter (the gods at their worst), and perhaps that she could find no fault in the weaving, Athena shredded Arachne’s cloth and threw it in her face.

             

In shame, Arachne hanged herself.  Athena brought the girl back to life, but transformed.

             

She still spins today.

See, we’ve always known the spider as weaver.

 

There’s a weaver on the side of my house.  I see her twice a week.  On Tuesday nights, when I take out the garbage, there’s almost always a single thread that runs across the walkway, from one tree to another.  Sometimes, she’s out there to say hi, but not always.  To get by, I’m forced to break the strand.

             

Apparently, she doesn’t mind too much, because on Wednesdays when I bring the empty cans back, she’s replaced the thread with an entire web, the perfect kind that is nearly large enough to ensnare me, were I to blunder blindly into it.  I don’t know if she does this just to show off, but I do know I hate having to tear that web apart to get through.  So, generally, I don’t do much tearing.  With a stick, I dislodge all the connections on one side of the path, fold the entire web over to the bush on the other side, and drape it across.

             

I mean, really, I’m not about to offer myself as a meal.

             

Fortunately, spider webs are thin, as they tend to be stronger than steel and highly flexible.  But spiders do not only use their silk for webs.

             

They wrap their eggs in protective silk.  Hunters will lay down a safety line wherever they go.  Smaller species use it for ballooning; they release long threads into the air from high places and, when the drag on the silk is high enough, let go and float away.  Which explains how some spiders can get caught in your hair with no other apparent reason.  (If this happens to you, don’t fear; it’s generally believed to be a sign that you’re about to come into money.)

             

There are, as far as we know, at least six types of spider silk, and most spiders spin more than one of these but none seem to use all six.  One type might be used to build a web, another type for shrouding prey, another type to protect the eggs.  Some hunting spiders cast silk nets, and some of these are venomous.  Not all webs are sticky; the Golden Orb Spider, for instance, creates a dry center where it is likely to sit whilst awaiting its dinner.

             

Arachne herself is probably weaver of those magnificent, perfect webs you sometimes find.  She’s out there waiting for her prey even now.  Perhaps she and the Spider Woman who taught a Navajo girl to weave are one and the same.  Perhaps she’s outside your house now, casting webs and weaving blankets.

<<Serial Spiders

 

Born in New York, and having spent some time in Florida, John Urbancik is now in Sydney, Australia.  His first novel was Sins of Blood and Stone, now out of print though Shocklines and Amazon may still have copies.  Most recently, he was featured in Delirium's New Dark Voices--also sold out from the publisher, also still available in some places .  There is an unconfirmed rumor that his novella Wings of the Butterfly will come out in late 2006.  You can find a lot of his photography at www.darkfluidity.com.

 


" Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present."


—Percy Bysshe Shelley

     A Defense of Poetry

 
       

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