The Witch's House
by Anita Mcfarlane
It was my mother who taught me the art of weaving a memorable web. She was a witch—if a spider can be a witch.
She knew that the very small intricacies of life, when attention was paid to them, added up to a world that was simply stunning in its dichotic chaotic complexity. She was famous! Her webs were internationally known and praised and she poured her love of the craft into me.
“The web should never be only utilitarian nor merely decorative” she instructed. “It must reflect the sublime soul who crafts it. Your web must be your unique mirror of the universe.”
My mother died soon after we had grown enough to move out of our home web. I believe that with no babies to protect, and with no one to exalt her beautiful masterpieces, her tenuous hold on this material world was broken.
She left me heartbroken. But I took comfort in my new home.
I came to this house because I discovered that an Almost-Witch lives here. Her name is Samantha and I’ve heard her tell her friend Katrina who is visiting from the city for the summer that her mother was a witch whom she misses everyday.
“Oh we love good wise women and their sacred vulvas!” Katrina had shouted. Together they consume a remarkable amount of champagne and potato chips. They love dancing, they laugh a lot and sometimes cry when they are high on love and “Spirits”.
I created my first web here the second night over the front door.
I heeded my mother’s lessons, focusing on my breath, “the life force that fills us all”, allowing meditation-in-motion to happen and knowing that “while improvisation is certainly magical, one must also adhere to the reason of proper web architecture.”
By the time the moon bowed out and the sun took centre stage, I was exhausted but exhilarated by my creation. It sparkled and gleamed like a diamond Mandala in the light!
Samantha came from around the back of the house and stopped when she saw my web. She gasped and then came closer. “Well,” she said when she spotted me, “it seems we’ve an artist in the house. How wonderful!” She went back around and returned with a handmade sign that read: Do NOT use this door!
But later that day the fool who wears the plaid vest, who is trying to seduce her, paid the sign no mind and burst through the door destroying my web.
Samantha was furious with him and said quietly to me “Don’t worry little spider, you are welcome here and I won’t allow anyone to destroy your creations again.”
She strung toilet paper across the door to prevent “Art Intruders” and sweetly told me the space was mine. My broken heart almost burst with love for this lovely wise woman.
I vowed to create a spectacular web for her that night in love, gratitude and humour - a vulva mandala! She will laugh!