Long-Term Agreements,

The natural state of entropy and disregard have their own gravity. I was three, possibly four, when the nightmares began. Giants would swoop in from the sky and hunt me through the forests and skies of my dreamworld. They would come alone or in groups, cannibals hungry to eat my nose. I lived in terror of sleep. One morning I was sitting outside of the cabin and using my thumb I was squishing black ants. I had no conception of life until this moment, when I realized how unjust it was for me to squish an animal simply because it was small relative my the largess of my three years. I stopped killing bugs and made an agreement to not take the lives of other beings. This week I cleaned the small barn so that the horse of my heart could move into safe, clean, welcoming environment. This consisted of removing years worth of cobwebs from the walls, ceiling, corners. If I were a witch who needed spider silk for potions, I would have had gallons of tensile thread at my disposal. I uncovered a spider larger than a silver dollar, her round black body shone in the unexpected light of day, her eight legs, talons, the telltale hourglass mark on her back. She was guarding the nest I had just swept away, "Please get on my broom so I can take you outside." She didn't listen and pulled her legs close into her body to appear less dangerous or even dead. I looked for a jar to transport her out of the area, no dice. I tried again to encourage her to come with me on the broom, she would not leave the destruction of her former nest. My heart sank as I realized that this was the worst moment I had faced in years, I had a real and absolute choice to make. Afterwards, I wept, moved her body outside, left an offering for the life taken. I said a prayer and thanked her for her ferocity, the care that she put into her home, and the power of her life to help me remember the promise I had made long ago to honor all life.