A longish spider story:
A number of years ago, during a more youth-and-LSD addled phase of my life, I decided on an ambitious weekend course of action: five hits of good acid, spread out one every thirty minutes. Maximum peak time, very intense. I forget what the intended goal of this was.
At any rate, about two hours in, I decided that the best thing to do, what with being in my parents' living room in the middle of the night and them being asleep upstairs and all, would be to chill the f**k out. This I decided to do by reading comics (Dan Clowes' Like a Velvet Glove Cast in Iron of all things). It actually worked. It calmed me so much so that I was totally unalarmed when I saw a large black spider go scuttling by along the wainscotting.
This was one of those impressively limbed, svelte, hairless big bastards, the kind with a legspan of an odd inch. Now in the tropics, this might be no cause for wonderment, but in Canada, this sort of thing being rare, most people would freak at the sight of this creature running through their home. Luckily, I've always had something of an affintiy for arachnids, and, with my mind supercharged on indole rings, I decided to investigate.
First, scooping it up, I ascertained that it wasn't in fact an hallucinogenia, but was a real live spider. Then I spent a minute talking to it, letting it run along my arm, and generally grinning in marvel over the beauty of this animal. Finally, issuing a whispered "salutations to your people!" I let it run away into a heating vent, and returned to my surreal comic, thinking nothing more of it.
That was, until about fifteen minutes later, when I noticed something in my peripheral vision. Up over the top rim of my glasses, motion. So I looked up.
Now, by this point, the trip had stabilized, for whatever reason, into a pretty coherent and realistic environment. No melting walls, no undersea adventures. With the exception of heavy tracers, and my mind boiling a mile a minute, the living room looked more or less like it did out of dreamtime.
Except for the giant spider standing immediately in front of me.
It had eight legs, but was standing on the rear two, and weaving the other six in a strange rhythmic undulating motion (which I compare to the dance of Hindu gods). It was about seven feet tall, shiny, thin. It did not look hostile. It wore around its neck masses of gold jewelry, Mr. T level bling, and a gold crown, and all of the accessories had a strange motiv which struck me at the time as being similar to Aztec or Polynesian. It was silent.
I looked at it for a moment, shook my head, and went back to reading.
A minute later, I looked up and it was still there- standing, rhythmic, silent. Now let me clarify: this was not some pseudo-hallucinogenic, wavering apparition against exploding technicolor starburst background. It was the most solid-looking, real-looking psychotropic vision I have ever had, my peyote experiences notwithstanding. And it was just there, in my parents' living room, looking at me, but making no other efforts to gain my attention. I sighed, and set down my comic, and, trying not to wake up my family (who would have been unappreciative of my 'guest'), asked quietly, "How can I help you?"
What followed remains one of the strangest, most ineffable experiences I've ever had (and I've had more than a few). I can only describe it as the founding of a sort-of telepathic compact, a kind of spritual treaty being offered to me by an earthly envoy of the Spider Gods. I'm fairly certain there was some talking, and I know there was some gestural communication, but I remain strangely blocked on the actual details of the exchange. At any rate, after an odd hour of this, the spiderprince vanished, and I returned to my comic.
The weird thing is, after years of telling this story at parties and to friends, it only just occured to me this summer to try and return to the experience from an active magickal perspective.
So, starting in July, I've been doing a series of 'workings, teasing out bits and pieces in contact with my 'ambassador', which calls itself Mnyras. I'd be interested to hear if anyone else has similar experiences, or any kind of suggestions on the best way to approach this type of 'work.
Interestingly, in contrast to what was said above, I've been told that web-spinners are the ones for me to be cautious of. Hunters are powerful, swift and deadly, but straightforward. Web-builders are cunning, deceitful and binding. As the patrons of language, they're demiurgic. Not to generalize of course...that was just what I got. Any reason given for the other view? |
