Spiders and People - And Webs We Weave -

I have an armful of flowers, and the vase I pull off the shelf in the basement storage room has a spider in it. Crap. 

Putting the flowers down and gently carrying the vase upstairs I decide to give that spider a chance at life outdoors. I tap the vase, the spider crawls to the base. I shake the vase, and the spider spits out silk and weaves itself an area of safety. I lay the vase on its side, hoping the spider will crawl out, walk inside, put the flowers in a glass. I wait. I watch. I tap on the vase, again. Nothing. 

That spider is not going to move. I contemplate drowning the spider and getting on with my flowers, but after a half an hour, what's another few minutes. 

And yet it's evident the spider is more comfortable inside the vase, in its own web of comfort, than being "freed," and able to live out its life in my flower bed. 

Is this my idea of a spider's freedom, or the spider's? Is the spider even equipped to live outside? Yet it will surely die stuck inside, and at the bottom of, a relatively large vase. 

What to choose? 

And with those thoughts, many metaphors came to my mind, as well as Plato's Allegory of the Cave. Who is in the cave? Who is the teacher? Does the individual (or spider) really need "rescued"? And ultimately, is what is harmful for one living being harmless for another (or another living situation)? 

Finally I pull out a long stick, push it into the vase, break through a web that was over the vase, perhaps even keeping the spider a captive because of its own weaving, and nudge the spider out. It crawls out, hesitates, then scurries off the concrete and into the dirt of the flowerbed. 

And with that, I wash out the vase, pop in the flowers, and my day continues. 

And yet - the imagery has not left me. What am I a comfortable prisoner of? What webs have I woven that I'm not even aware of? And what is freedom? A glass vase in a dark cold basement or a garden of rich dirt and sunshine? 

Aaah, the webs we weave -