I stood on the deck railing to get as close to this web as the focus on my fixed lens would allow. My attention was captured by Nature's beaded doily, so much so that I didn't realize that below me was a twenty foot drop down a steep hillside covered in blackberry bushes. Never mind the web, I was now captured by fear as I climbed down from potential disaster.
I stepped inside a tiny house on display at a solar living institute. Ninety six square feet of tiny bliss. Warm wood cabinetry, a solar panel desk, a corner kitchen bathed in light, a sleeping loft with a cross breeze. My imagination was captured. In my mind, I moved in, bought a Kindle and an electric tea kettle, and hung a hammock chair on the front porch. My real home now feels too big for me.
I sat down at the computer today to write about a book I read which suggested faith was the antidote to fear, and more specifically, to write about my struggle with faith. But my attention was captured by my daughter's writing class going on in the other room. Junior high and high school girls were reading aloud rough drafts of their "This I Believe" essays. Their beliefs sounded eerily familiar to me; their struggle to express themselves similar to my own. "It's not so easy to write what you believe, is it?", I heard the writing teacher say. I deleted every word I wrote.
My mind is captured in a web of it's own weaving. Tangled with intention. Disjointed on purpose. Suspended by a few threads. The web is a home, a trap, an occupation, a masterpiece. Familiar to the maker, mesmerizing to the observer, disastrous for the trespasser. I keep getting caught.
Posted by Molly at 3:35 PM