itsy bitsy spider

The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout
Down came the rain and washed the spider out
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain
And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again

A comment by Siona on one of my previous posts clued me into the spiritual significance of this song I sing over. And over. And over with my kids.

This little song can be either depressing or encouraging, depending on my mindset. If I, being an itsy bitsy spider in my own right, am trying to actually get somewhere, do something specific, achieve a goal, then the repetition is frustrating. Just leave me alone and let me get up that water spout, dammit! I’d curse the rain and the sun both. And sue the makers of the water spout for not providing handrails or footholds or some such silliness.

But with the right spirit, if just being an itsy bitsy spider is enough in itself, I can enjoy the sun and the rain and the climb and the occasional hair-raising rush down the water spout. The repetition becomes a litany of lived moments, each one a sacred offering, a celebration.

Being that itsy bitsy spider is not such a bad thing. Depends on where my ego is, I guess.

I know, I know. You do actually have to get somewhere and accomplish some goals in life. I do have to earn a living. But so many of my moments are a natural part of the litany – repetitive, goal-less. And if you are always trying to get somewhere or accomplish something, the moments of daily repetition are an imposition, an inconvenience, instead of a litany of sacred moments

Shaving.
Brushing teeth.
Making the bed.
Driving to work.
Picking up toys.
Vacuuming.
Paying bills.
Shopping.
Making the bottles.
Bathing the kids.
Changing Diapers.
Putting the kids to bed.

Then watch a little TV, go to sleep, (itself a repetition) and wake up and do it all again with a few variations.

So each day at some point I stand in my living room looking at the toys strewn everywhere, sippy cups perched perilously on furniture, folded clean laundry waiting to be put away, restless children growing surly with cabin fever and TV hangover, dog bowls empty. I feel the pull to action…

So, what will it be today Cody? A sacred litany, or a resentful hurried rushing to the next thing?

“…and the itsy bitsy spider climbs up the spout again.”

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