A friend and I recently joked that I’ve started a frog farm down here at Round Lake. Yes, they are everywhere here in the marshland, but I have three special friends who have taken over the top corner of my office window – the one just above the small lamp on my desk, which I now leave on for them each night. They feast on the bugs drawn to the lamplight and I delight in watching them, almost creeped out by their presence, but not enough to extinguish the source of their movable feast. Yeah, it’s a little weird, but then again, so am I.
In the summer of 2018, I had a similar relationship with a
spider who had spun her web near the light at the back door of my former
home. This was back when I would do “two sleeps” each night. The first sleep
was when I would pass out with our kiddos reading stories and saying our gratefuls
in bed. I would wake around midnight for some alone time, which I had next to
none of as a stay-at-home-mom. My first order of business was in the kitchen,
where I flipped on the light for “The Grande Dame of the Back Door”. Yes, I even
named her, frightful though she was.
She was extremely emotive compared to these three chill amphibians. The Grande Dame would rear up on her back legs, batting at the intrusion of light, her web vibrating from her frenzied movement. I would often speak to her, “You know I’m just trying to help, Mama. It’s gonna make your night so easy and you’ll have lots more time to just hang out and EAT”!
Whether
I spoke to her out loud, or just in my thoughts, she seemed to calm down,
probably just having acclimated to the stadium lighting surrounding her home. I
like to think maybe she understood me, mother-to-mother. Either way, she soon
reveled in the gifts that light brought her way.
In the bugs flew, one after another, and she went to work straight away, spinning and rolling and all of her other gruesome activities. This nightly routine went on nearly the whole summer, and she even calmed a bit as time went on. I could tell she was still uncomfortable when the light flipped on, but she soon gave up the hissy fit and just sat on her web until her senses had adjusted. She was HUGE by the time August rolled around even though I took care to leave the light on only an hour or so each night.
And then one late-summer night, I flipped on the light and she was gone. The Grande Dame of the Back Door went missing! A wave of fright and then sadness for this gigantic spider nearly knocked me over. I was quite sure a bird or bat had the tastiest meal over the last 24 hours. I know, circle of life and all that, but this was a sentient being who I spoke to every night for months. No, she never replied, but we did share a connection.
There was purpose to our late-night tête-à-tête’s if nothing more
than to show me I was so lonely for connection…in a household of four humans and two
cats, and many friends. To my relief, she did return about a week later, likely after hiding away
to lay her eggs. But of course, that meant the end of her life was near and the
next time she disappeared, it was for good. I said a proper goodbye to this
strange being I shared my nights with that summer and wondered if the next spider I
carried out in a glass jar was one of her babies?
I think I’ve always fared better with the animal kingdom than humans. I am too much for most humans, but no animal has ever turned its back on me. I am as sensitive as they come, and much of the time, this world is just too much for me. This was especially true as a child, without the tools and understanding of how I work, what I perceive, and how I can best keep myself from being pulled under by the energy around me.
An empath to the extreme, with intermittent, undeveloped intuition. I know I’m not alone; many perceive things beyond our five senses. Some have visions, hear messages, just know, even smell a presence or speak with those who have passed over. I primarily feel…the truth. More often than not, I know what others are feeling, when someone is lying, needs a hug, wants me to speak for them, or is in physical pain – many of those things people try to hide from the outside world, and oftentimes, hide even from themselves. I see who people truly are and have a really rough time when their behavior and beliefs do not match their true being. Ironically, my spidey senses don't always work on me, and I am often the last to understand something about myself that is obvious to the rest of the world.
You could understand
why a highly sensitive person feels safer around animals than humans. Animals have
never lied to me, let me down, hurt me, or abandoned me, even when I have done those very
same things to them. Their love is unconditional. I think the animals that have loved me, saved me. I’m
quite sure I wouldn’t have made it through without their company and
connection.
And now, the world has gotten snarly and is healing even though it
may not look like it. Evolution in consciousness cannot be stopped, but it can
get pretty ugly before we reach the next spiral up.
And so I am grateful to have found my refuge on Round Lake, surrounded by the beauty and the sounds of all things good and real, including those three little frogs… "pitched by my doorstep. Singin’ sweet songs of melodies pure and true. Sayin, this is my message to you-whoo-oo. Singin’ don’t worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing's gonna be alright".
And so it is...alright. Thank you Bob Marley, The Three Little Frogs, The Grande Dame of the Back Door, and all my animal guides sent to help me through this life - my Earth Angels in some of the strangest costumes!
