Contact us at: whispernthunder1@gmail.comSigns, Solutions, and Orb Weavers
~ Orannhawk
The significance of signs continues to hold substantial
weight in my approach to solving issues. Growing up,
the focus lent itself more to hunting; gradually revealing
solutions in other areas. Quite often, signs evolved into
stories, with the answers emerging like loose threads
meant for me to weave together. Papaw was a natural
storyteller, encouraging me to utilize all my senses to
see beyond the obvious.His methods of teaching were
unique, allowing me to develop these senses over time.
He shared his theory that the behavior of wildlife in their
natural habitat could translate over to everyday life.
Random questions pushed me to challenge my
perceptions, across the board. Maturity, of course,
played a significant role in expanding these skills. Over
time, I realized the lessons included developing my
skills of critical observation.
Between my dad and Papaw, they developed a random way of encouraging me to hone this skill. On numerous occasions, one of them would call my attention to someone in a store or a café. The goal was to observe the individual without intruding on their privacy, and more importantly, without judgement. The questions would follow when we were back on the road. “Was there anything unusual about the individual? Was there anything that made you feel uncomfortable? Would you feel threatened if the individual approached you? What was memorable about the individual, and could I describe in detail, if needed, their appearance?”
Following their footsteps through the dense mesquites lent other opportunities of observation. As a child, I patterned my steps to theirs, to be as silent as they were. My awareness developed quickly, taking in the sounds, scents, tracks, and drags, as well as that inner knowing to embrace the experience. Both men were mechanics so it made sense a similar pattern of observation would be evident in my dad’s shop. Quite often my dad would drive a vehicle around the block to listen and feel what was going on before he even opened the hood. When I rode along with him, the questions began. “Tell me something about the driver? What is the car telling you? What does it feel like?” During one ride, I replied “The owner doesn’t listen to the car. They don’t feel the way it pulls to one side, or the scratchiness when you turn. They have no connection to it.” He taught me to listen, to hear and feel the subtleties and how to connect with the vehicle. Years ago, I walked past a car in my dad’s shop and placed my hand on the hood for a minute. I immediately walked back to the house, telling my mom I
needed to go and clean out the trunk of my car, because the car in the shop was mine. She denied it, but less than ten minutes later, my dad called from the shop with his usual blunt instructions to clean out the other one so he could sell it. The fact he bought the other car was implied, but not stated, very typical for him. I laughed and replied, “it’s already done, I listened to the car.” With every car or truck I’ve owned, I’ve spent time just sitting in them in my driveway, connecting. Each console or glove box always carries a full pouch of tobacco and a bag of cornmeal, with tools and other essentials tucked behind the backseat.
Recently, I sat in my truck in the parking lot of a local grocery store. I waited a bit, watching as others parked and immediately exited their vehicle without looking around. Am I over vigilant? Perhaps. However, as a woman, I don’t believe so, especially in today’s climate. As an assault survivor, I prefer not to leave anything to chance. Over the years, I have spent time with various individuals who were oblivious to their surroundings, easily proving many people truly can’t see the forest for the trees.Thanks to Papaw and my dad, I see signs and patterns everywhere. I loved watching Papaw’s cattle in the fall, knowing their hide would indicate how soon winter would arrive. I noted the scrapes on the mesquites from the whitetail bucks, and the long drags across the sandy ground from the rattlesnakes. You don’t forget things like the pungent musky odor from a rattlesnake, the crispness in the fall air, the weird little bugs that flip before a storm, or the rain crow’s song alerting us to the coming rain, matching
the array of purple flowers on the sage bushes; much less the wisdom imparted.
When I feel the need, I will ask for a sign. I let go of the outcome and wait for the reveal. Answers have their own way of showing up to the party, and trust me, it is never what you expect. Sometimes it is literal, like words on a billboard, or an uplifting message scrawled in chalk in a favorite restaurant’s bathroom. Kudos to them for leaving containers of colored chalk in the stalls as well as the washroom area. Messages in fortune cookies, words scrawled on a napkin left behind on a table, notes left in grocery carts, they can be everywhere. Years ago, when I still had a land line, answers came in the form of an incoming misdialed call. That was one amazing conversation. If you are open, there are answers everywhere.
Quite often my answers come from nature. Recently, I stepped outside with my dog to discover a huge spiderweb a few feet from my front door. The early morning rays bathed the web and the Orb Weaver in sunlight, sparkling as if showered with glitter. I thanked the Orb Weaver, for sharing the web with me. As we continued our walk behind the house, a second Orb Weaver sat near the hub of another web, the silken strands skillfully anchored between the garden and a tree. The elaborate pattern of thin spider silk shimmered in the light. I spoke to the second Orb Weaver, who appeared to be observing me. This web was not as large as the 3.5-to-4-foot web in the front yard, nonetheless, it was quite impressive.
In the days prior to their appearance, I had felt unsettled, stifled, and stressed. Finding the Orb Weavers shifted everything as I sat outside near the web, feeling the medicine wash over me. I thought about Papaw and my dad, knowing how they would have enjoyed seeing the sparkling web, as well as my interpretation of the signs. The are many books on the market with interpretations of animal contact and while books can be a guideline, it is important to view signs as a doorway to a deeper, more personal experience. I was taught to look within to understand why the sign was significant to me. This alone encouraged me to trust in myself and the messages gifted to me.
With the recent interactions with the three Orb Weavers, I also realized even with the valuable teachings with signs and critical observations, we all make mistakes. Over the years I’ve missed, and occasionally ignored more than a handful of red flags. It happens. The lessons and reminders remain, even with the missed or overlooked signs, if you are willing to accept them.
As Indigenous people, our lives are quite diverse. Regardless of where and how we live, the songs and stories we grew up learning, whether our paths were surrounded by pavement or trees, loss or abundance, there are always signs. Did I make a makeshift sign with a marker, and place it near the first huge web, so no one would accidentally destroy it? Yes, I did. I knew the Orb Weaver would remove the web when it was time.
I have not forgotten the stories and words I heard growing up, or the lessons. I pay attention to what nature presents to me and how it relates to other aspects of my life. It’s a part of who I am, and it's a part of who we are. The connections with our elders and our traditions are generational, reaching out to touch us all; on occasion with something as simple as garden spiders constructing delicate sparkling webs.
Image courtesy of the Author