Am I the spider, or the fly? As I write this, there is a fly trapped in a spider web about ten feet diagonal from me. I heard its frantic buzzing first. I thought it was trapped between the curtain and the window. It sounded close enough to be right in my ear. The buzz was constant and loud, unceasing really. It quieted slightly and buzzed loudly again. Till it ceased again for a longer time, then buzzed a bit, ceased longer, buzzed a bit, then ceased longer yet, again. Each time the buzz was quieter, faint, and muffled. One last time a silenced, yet attempted buzz. Wavered. Silent.
All the while, the spider was busy itself. Two legs clinging, wrapping, spinning, clinging, wrapping, buzz, buzz. Again and again, a near miss a couple times, as the frantic vibration must have loosened its wings. Near freedom, and yet not, a near loss, but not quite. Both sensed a fullness of life. One at its end, and one continuing.
So, where am I in all of this? Am I the spider, or the fly?
If I were the spider, my art would be like the fly, ever elusive, within my grasp, but not. Loosened, to nearly slipping away, but not. I cling to it, spinning, wrapping, clinging, spinning, wrapping, buzz, buzz. Trying to make it work. All the while I have the fly, my art, it’s not going anywhere, but it’s also not going away.
“What now?” says the spider to the fly.
“Do what comes natural to you,” says the fly to the spider “I am nothing without you.”
Would the spider be like my art, if I were the fly? I am trapped by this talent web, this obsession, this gift from God. It clings to me. I’m being spun by it, buzz, buzz.
“What is your plan for me?” says the fly to the spider.
“Do what comes natural to you,” says the spider to the fly, “I am nothing without you.”
I take in all that God provides me, digest it, and live out who He is through me. I am purposed through Christ, through my art.
I am nothing without Him.
~journal entry, March 2016