Finally starting to settle into the rhythms of fall, kicking this exhausting cold, re-focusing on life and work. Life is work. On the Sabbath I sat in the sun on the porch and watched a spider spin her web. She did it with her whole body, this perfect choreography of beauty and utility. What ancient blueprint guided her intricate creation? Does she know how fragile this labor is? If it was destroyed a thousand times, a thousand times she would rebuild. How fragile with the tensile strength of steel.



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