The spider is a repairer. If you bash into the web of a spider, she doesn’t get mad. She weaves and repairs it.
All things, must, on the outside, die, but a power that is not at all supernatural makes death itself the basis for renewal.
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
To turn to and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain. And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
I used to be the editor of a paper called the Long Haul. Some younger folks told me that wasn’t a good name ‘cause it would make people depressed to know they couldn’t have immediate victories. But I think it’s good to understand what we’re up against clearly. That way we can be realistic about what we’re tackling and the likelihood of victory.