What
became of Arachne of Lydia? She boasted and won, but lost. That much
we know. All spiders die, so I guess she did too, as nowhere does it
say she was cursed with extra legs and
immortality, so how
then might she have met her end? By boot, by broom, by a rolled-up
paper, of natural causes.
And
where? In a damp stone cottage, in a villager's house, in a mansion,
a palace? Was she free to hang wherever she pleased or was she caged
like an exhibit?
Does
Arachne not have an ending because in presumably spawning children,
and lots of them, she created not just amazing webs but a vast
lineage, like and unlike her in size and shape yet all able to weave
and spin? Only she can claim she was once mortal; all through her can
claim to possess a great skill.
Which
is better: spider man or woman or Man, in male or female form?
Arachne of Lydia would be able to answer that, as would those comic
heroes. I could reason it out, I suppose, but it would be unfairly
biased, for I think all spiders quite hideous and only appreciate
their creations when sunlight falls upon them and they've abandoned
them or are nowhere in plain sight. I personally would never choose,
despite this incredible gift of weaving, to be a spider, though I
guess Arachne didn't either. She was foolish.
As
mortals, have we learnt from her folly? Insult someone, unwisely and
unnecessarily, and your life, your reputation might hang by a thread.
So
should we not insult anybody?
Well, ways and means, ways and means, is what I would say. Diplomacy.
Britain seems to have lost the knack – did it ever have it? It must
have at some point, mustn't it? Except now, or over the last few
years, the country seems to have descended to name-calling and verbal
attacks, all of which says very little of consequence, or gets
anybody anywhere. Even politicians can't be relied upon to set an
example to the nation. No, in some instances they whip the hysteria
up or are so concerned about their own public image and their ratings
they join the people: the popular opinion of the day, speak at
rallies etc., regardless of how it might affect any other, possibly
more important, relations.
The
product of spin. That's what we all are. That's what we all swallow.
At first an old lady accidentally swallowed a fly and then she
purposely swallowed the spider. The spider wiggles and tickles inside
her. Hmm, there's truth in the rhyme. A prophecy foretold.
Challenge
and boast. Boast and challenge. But not to inflate the ego. Or
because it can be done i.e. the medium is there to do it.
Spiders,
despite being merciless with their victims, are (I think) quite
humble creatures. The myth of Arachne feeds into that: reduced from
maiden to spider, and yet permitted to retain the skill she bragged
of. Lowered but not entirely crushed. Perhaps Arachne, though, would
have preferred the latter outcome. Ovid had her attempt it. As
really, I don't see that spiders lead very interesting lives, but
then weaving – with needle and thread - has never been a passion of
mine.
Weaving,
as in storytelling, rather than telling tales, well, yes, there's
that. But spinning is altogether different. It's a persuasive art.
And is much more brash in style. Those that master it, or are the
masterminds behind it, can be guaranteed to tell a good yarn. The
sales people of the world. Let down a thread and reel them in. Toy
with them for a while or trap them forever, mummify and benumb them.
Net
of hypocrisies. Web of lies.
Yet
nonetheless a skill. Abhorred and admired. Nimble mind,
silver-tongued and winged fingers to gesticulate, to accompany their
smooth and rousing words. Much like an orchestra conductor. An
individual, a crowd of people will soon all sing the same tune, in
harmony. In one accord, even when the interpretation changes to suit
the agenda. These 'leaders' have what a spider lacks: Charisma, with
a capital C.
The
skill of the spider then has evolved. As have the modest webs of old,
of mythology. The greatest spinner does not mean what it used to
mean.
A
small brown spider weeps.
Picture credit: Arachne, Paolo Veronese (source: WikiArt).
This post was penned in 2019.
