Letter to the spider living in my writing desk

Interesting that we should both come to accompany this same bit of space; you, a silent, timid watcher, filled to the brim with the tenacity of survival made manifest; myself, a quiet and reserved observer of the human world, stubborn from generations of hard-boiled blood and years of misunderstood energy.

And yet, how strange that my first thought upon meeting you was, of course, “how different”. How arrogant the human mind, that anything not myself in appearance, in voice, is immediately christened separate, apart.

As we got to know each other, as I admired your bravery and your determination, your inquisitiveness as you plotted the lay of the sprawling plastic landscape, I realized that what stories we humans tell are all in praise of your very traits…in the guise of our own heroes, of course, faces and names from our dim and ill-remembered past. How much time is wasted, I wonder, in trying to hold fast to such stories of misnamed and exaggerated heroes, even for the lessons their trials teach us. It seems, as I watch, that our energy would be better spent forgetting these warriors and conquerors of old, surrendering their arrogance in exchange for the humble majesty that is the watcher, the all-seeing hunter in the shadows.

And yet, your people would have no such thing, would they my new office-mate? Ever the enigma, ever the mysterious figure, you would have none of our hero-worship, preferring instead to remain ever-quiet, ever unknown, the face in the empty room.

Perhaps this is yet another trait that we should seek to idolize: humility. Selflessness. Amidst all your commendable, admirable qualities, it is this quiet modesty that is the most rare, the most incredible, for with all your other gifts, you seek not recognition as a man. Do you understand that these gifts are yours by right, no great achievement or challenge, and thus see them as unworthy of boasting?

Yet, even when you do accomplish something great, be it a massive and elaborate web or a particularly stubborn horsefly, still you seek not recognition; you just go about your next task, with bowed head and set mandibles, as single-minded as the most skilled of monks, living each moment and what it offers and no more.

Though I’m sure you care little for my opinion, I am a great admirer of your work, great Anansi. Please remain my desk-mate, my quiet companion, for as long as you wish.