The Art of Rest as Learned from an Arthropod

“If you have no time to rest, it’s exactly the right time.” — Mark Twain

From atop my lofty human perch of unshaven legs, I saw him struggle. Like a tiny ball of yarn tumbling to and fro, he dashed against the shower walls. His eight legs were weaving a tangled mess of desperation. For a microsecond, I was a jerk. In the manner of a pompous rich fool taunting a hungry third-world orphan, I gave him a half-hearted washcloth refuge. He couldn’t grasp it, and so I watched as the torrent of water had its way with the poor creature.

The whole debacle happened in a matter of seconds, but my mind raced with hours worth of ponderings. As the arthropod spiraled toward the drain, I saw it happen. I watched the horrible moment he gave up. Exhaustion had taken over his poor soul. It was an incredibly sad scene. He was only a little spider living in my house, but he was still a life.

Needless to say, I picked up his weak body, untangled his legs, and rested him in a safe spot to recover. It was a little weird attempting to nurse a spider back to life, and I do think myself strange for it.

BUT…I would do it all over again.

I wanted someone to save me.

On another day I may have not seen him or simply not noticed his struggle. Today was different. Lately, I had been stretched to my limits. Emotional and physical exhaustion were pushing me closer and closer to my own metaphorical drain. Job, household, boss, kids, spouse, pets, bills, diapers, poop, dirt, tears…you catch my drift. I noticed my struggling buddy that day because in that moment he was me.

I wanted someone to save ME.

Back to my spider: For two entire days he rested peacefully there in a corner of the bathroom. I told my significant other not to squish him. Respectfully, thinking me a huge dork, he went along with it.

My spidey friend crawled away from the whole ordeal unscathed. I didn’t. Not that I was harmed, per se, but I was touched. The bottom line is that life is hard. Sometimes it tries to kill you. Whether you have a savior or you save yourself, those after moments should be spent recovering and growing stronger.

Never did my arthropod friend enter the bathtub again. He moved his abode down to the basement with his other buds. From the life and almost death of a spider, I learned a little something. Walk away from it all with mitigated heart and body. Just don’t walk so fast that you leave all wisdom behind in the drops of water that could have been your deathbed. Take it from a spider, and cut yourself a break.

Whether your hardship is dealing with a jerk-face boss, fighting with the hubs, overwhelming medical bills, sleepless baby nights, sick kids, distant friends, engine light on, divorce, abuse, rejection, death…the list goes on. You know your pain. I don’t.

I just save spiders…

Walk away from it all with mitigated heart and body.

I do know you can make it work. Somehow, someway…You can do it. You may not be able to do it today, and that’s all right.

“Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow’” — Mary Anne Radmacher

Take it from a spider: Rest up, Get up, and Move on.