Webs, Connection, and Magic at Midnight

 On connection

“But how does it work?” asked bird.

“Being willing to ask that question,” replied bear, “is the perfect way to start.”

…

📷: Red Rising, a collaboration with Derek Bruno

…

Every night, when nobody is watching, she slowly lowers herself down from her hiding place. And in the darkest dark when all others sleep, she begins.

Every morning, I open the sliding door to my workshop and marvel.

A single strand of a spider web is impossibly tiny, a mere 1–5 microns in width.

Human hair, by comparison, averages around 70 microns, or the width of 1/6th of a sheet of paper.

And yet that spider silk is so strong. By weight, stronger than steel and sometimes tougher even than Kevlar.

Flipping on the lights, I see a thousand strands hung like decorations, strung like garlands, incandescent, luminous, an art installation for one.

Beam to beam, mobile to mobile, paint can to tool, she’s connected it all; tying together that which was separate, making the many one.

I was amazed to learn that each small strand of webbing is made from even smaller strands, called nanofibers. At 10–100 nanometers, one of these fibers is so minute you’d need an electron microscope to see it.

A pinhead is the equivalent of a million nanometers, so you do the math.

As I move further into the workshop, I feel their invisible kiss on my face, eyelash and cheek, ear and hand; the lights overhead illuminating an evermore intricate network.

“Look,” she whispers, “it’s all connected,” and even quieter still, “you’re all connected.”

I spin around one last time, watching the countless lines overhead shimmer and shine before disappearing, filled with wonder and a tinge of sadness as I begin my day.

At a time when there is much that separates, can you share something that is both wonder-full and connective you’ve seen or experienced recently?