Temple of the Spider

A painting I did a while ago about a nightmare.

A painting I did a while ago about a nightmare.

Fear and folklore of the spider
and things the eyes believe.
A sense of truth is far behind
and senses do deceive.
In this temple, those that pray
make sure their eyes are closed,
Spider walks where he sees fit
for reality, no one knows.

Consider what I am about to write as a minor curiosity from an evil doctor; an experiment and nothing more. I will not delve into the curious insecurities that the world seems to share about what it does not understand and I will not judge what odd preferences make us love one thing and hate another. In life, there are lines we make for ourselves; they are imaginary, but they are there. A line can become so terrifying, so encumbered with fear that it controls us and crossing it becomes a dangerous idea. Sometimes we must take time out to acknowledge the things that actually scare us and not the pop-up skeletons we see in cheesy B-Movies.

Sometimes a nightmare is so terrifying that it becomes as effective as religion. Sometimes a nightmare is enough to live your life by and no one is willing to tell you it is wrong. Who could tell a person that because they are afraid they are missing out on so much; when the only real teacher is experience. Until you see, the world will be as contorted as this picture, with the mountains at odd angles that make the world into a menacing face, and forever in the hollows of what seems to be a black cave, will survive, the temple of the spider.

I thought this was enough, that I could leave the world with only a few paragraphs and act as if I knew what they were feeling, though I had to be honest with myself; I’ve never been afraid of spiders, but touching your fear is something all together different. There was the biggest spider I’d ever seen and certainly I’ve said that before, but this time I meant it. It was fat and brown, with thicker legs than I thought a spider could have; as I was pushing it into a small chalice, I noticed a little white pebble sitting next to it. In reality, this may have been its egg sac, but I’m no doctor. I saved a life this day, as I returned the spider to the wild and could have been on my way. This thing seemed like a tarantula to me, but I realized how much of a hypocrite I would be to criticize any arachnophobe… instead of placing the spider on the ground I put him in my hand.

A crippling fear awakened within me, as if an ancient terror had been stirred from its ancient slumber, but I still kept my resolve. I felt the fear wash over me and had no other choice; if I closed my palm the spider would still be there. There was no escaping this nightmare, the nightmare was in the palm of my hand. For a moment, the squishy little creature merely sat in my palm, but then, as if testing my resolve; he shot up my arm like a spike of terror. The wave of fear came crashing down upon me, like the great floods that had once claimed the earth; now was my chance to prove who I was; to prove to myself that fear was not going to rule my life. In this moment, where I could have murdered this creature, I chose nothing. Nothing was my savior, and I allowed the spider to climb up and down my arm, he rolled playfully up my shoulder and down the opposite way. The fear, to my surprise, was not at its peak when the spider rolled over my neck, though the sensitivity of his tiny legs on the minute hairs made me cringe slightly. He didn’t bite me, which surprised me in the least.

It is more often than not that our nightmares come back to bite us, but it is only when we allow them to control us. I implore you, take advice from this mad doctor… enter the temple of the spider.

No lie, the spider was this big!

No lie, the spider was this big!

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