I Woke Up This Morning

I woke up this morning to a medium-sized wolf spider – completely harmless but ugly as hell – as he sat sunning himself in the sun that comes through my transparent aluminium roof. Perhaps a few weeks ago I would have jumped up and swooped in for a kill and let my mind wonder what else could be around, nesting under my covers or in my rafters. Here I just sat entranced, watching him for I do not know how long. He crawled up to a crevice where wall became ceiling and I had this distinct moment where I knew I would not be able to get him in a few moments more and I was just okay with it all. I drifted off to sleep, waking some time later, the spider gone.

I am not sure if this constitutes giving up or acceptance, though perhaps those are the same thing after a few weeks in Guatemala. Insects are not preferable, but they are part of the natural order of things. They outnumber us, are older than us, and more often than not are harmless to us. My thoughts might change if I wake up one night in excruciating pain from a scorpion sting; statistically speaking this will not happen. Though when speaking of statistics, it is almost certain a small millipede, spider, or beetle has wandered astray in the night, crawling onto my arm, then crawling off, without any climax, all while I slept unknowingly. Maybe this morning I realized it is time I guide my fears to more deserving things. The bugs would much prefer a tree outside swaying in the wind, as we would prefer them there.

For a long time I avoided my room and stayed in the large, sprawling common area that includes couches and hammocks that look out on the volcanoes. Part of this was the feeling I was sharing my room with unwanted visitors, but also that people and action and energy lay upstairs. Common areas are where we are supposed to go and supposed to talk and supposed to do a lot of things; it is the same way this lodge is a place you are supposed to love to be and want to work and live. “You have a dream situation up here,” I have been told more times than I can remember.

It is a beautiful view really -- one of my favorites. The lights from Antigua twinkle at night and during the day you periodically watch a volcano spew steam that blends into the nearby clouds. The travellers are mostly wonderful and the owners are beautiful people. The concept is visionary and refreshing --one of true philanthropic action and change -- amidst a lot of idealistic jargon that never gets done. But it is funny how these things go. There have been many dream moments in life where I would not be anywhere other than where I was, but they are hard to predict in advance, and what should be it often is not it at all.

My morning with a little wolf spider was not radical, or beautiful even, but I felt awfully content tucked away with no one around -- more content than I have felt in recent weeks on chairs that point outwards at a considerable view. I will be living in Antigua soon and the moments there will be simple with lots of typing and text and isolation, and I do not know how long it will last, but frankly, I am excited as hell to get off this mountain that seems to be some hazy and heavenly dream to everyone who finds their way here in the afternoon and leaves the next morning.