Today, after my friend and fellow volunteer left Kita, I put on my staple, go to movie for feel-goodery, Juno, and just as the title credits were scribbled onto the screen a glider-sized Wasp found his way into the house and into my peripheral. His giant wings black and casting shadows against our old-age-off-white-sand-blasted walls. As he flew closer into view and as my eyes adjusted to zoom in on him I noticed he was flying rather strangely, albeit inside and all, but he had obviously been altered. As I drew him closer with my gaze, because as we all know once you see something you’re scared of or worried about you make it bigger and it comes closer, smelling your fear and anxiety and it feels powerful, I realized that his hind legs were carrying and caught up in a rather large spider web. I couldn’t tell who I was sorrier for: the Wasp or the Spider.
The Wasp of course was sad because he was trying to escape a (relatively) heavy weight that he had inadvertently got himself caught up in. The Spider because like the natives to northern Alaska who prepare months in advance for the whaling season, he had come very close to a feast that could sustain him through the season and had, as so many whalers know all to well, lost the battle, a lot of work, and probably some face with neighboring and competing spiders.
Strange how one can project her own life so fluidly into the lives, struggles and issues surrounding the natural life-cycle of insects that normally last about 10 weeks but can not, somehow, get the same point across in her reality.
Relatively. Reality. RodmanHart. Its cyclical… or something.