Let's take a deep inhale and exhale.
Welcome to a hit of hope.
Consider the cobweb.
Some of its meanings are the fine network spun by a spider for the capture of its prey,
Or a musty accumulation which ought to be swept away.
Or a subtly woven snare,
Entangling mesh.
Consider where we find the cobweb.
A cobweb in the morning grass is an opportunity for wonder.
It gathers the dew and hangs the drops like mirrored globes of light.
A cobweb in the corner of a haunted place holds the husks of dead things.
A cobweb across the forest path presents a sticky,
Often invisible thing that clings to you when you're out walking amongst the silent giants otherwise known as trees.
And there you are,
All full of zen and honey and wham.
Now you've not only got a cobweb all over your face and in your hair,
But you might have just eaten a spider.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Consider the cobweb.
You never know when something like grief or pain might rise up and cling to you,
Haunting you with the husks of what has been.
When that happens,
Sometimes it hurts so badly that we are driven to our knees as the sobs rack our bodies.
We are in pain.
Inhale.
Exhale.
At that moment,
The best we can do is breathe,
Walk,
Or even crawl forward.
Sometimes you might actually seek out the cobwebs of your life.
You might be saying,
No,
I would never do that.
But haven't you ever intentionally circled back to an old hurt,
An old wound,
And walked right into the middle of it?
To what so-and-so did,
To the thing you wish you could take back,
To the if only I had done this,
Then all would be well?
This seems like a particularly human thing to do,
And it is the equivalent of intentionally walking into a sticky,
Clinging cobweb on your path.
The Buddhists have a name for this.
Of course they do.
Like the Germans,
They have a name for everything.
But the Buddhists call this a Shenpa.
And a Shenpa can be translated as an attachment or something that hooks us.
But it can also be that sticky feeling.
Cobwebs on your face.
As counterintuitive as it sounds,
A Shenpa,
A mental cobweb,
Is something you might seek out.
Because it can bring a weird comfort.
At least I know this bad feeling.
I can sit with it.
I know what to expect with it.
But is that really how you want to live?
If the answer is no,
What do you do?
Slow down.
Move mindfully.
That will allow you to get a better,
Wider picture of what is happening.
And from there,
You have the space and time to notice the cobwebs on your path.
And walk around them.
You might also be able to say,
Oh my,
I just had this thought,
And it feels like a sticky strand.
Danger,
Danger,
I'm gonna stop.
Breathe and avoid the web.
You can take care of yourself.
If you are tired,
Stressed,
Afraid,
Uncertain,
There are probably more cobwebs hanging about.
Settle.
Quiet.
And then set about cleaning those cobwebs out of your corners.
Finally,
You can hang out with folks who shine the good light of love into your corners.
There is nothing to fear here.
Let's get rid of this dusty stuff that's accumulated.
You are safe.
Loved.
If you walk face first into a cobweb,
Even willingly,
And you thrash and thrash,
Be gentle with yourself.
It's something we all do.
Stop.
Breathe.
Clean your face,
Put your feet back on your path,
And walk on,
Away from the subtly woven snare and that entangling mesh.
Namaste.
