Spooky Cobwebs of the Mind

The mind has been compared to an attic that stores all our memories. Often times we think about attics as dark places, with a shuttered window and dust and mice. If we do not clear the attic on a steady basis, dust can collect and cobwebs will form over the entire length and height of it.

Wandering through the attic of our minds, memories appear as cobwebs. As we pass through them they cling to us, making us uncomfortable. Attaching to our arms, our legs and our hair. Worries of misunderstandings, past thoughts of mistakes, silly things we did at a younger age, or fears about past debts or actions plague us as those cobwebs cling. We wander and cry in dismay, "Oh why did I say that to him that day," or "Oh, what was I THINKING?" or upon seeing some haunt as strange as a spider we utter just plain, "Yuck!". Covered in cobwebs.

In truth, cobwebs are just cobwebs. They are what they are. It is their nature to be sticky. It is our wandering through them that make them cling to us. It is our grasping that gets us covered up in them, these memories. Indeed as much as a cobweb is icky, it is our judgment of it that makes it so, and our memories need not be uncomfortable to us if we set aside our need to make an assessment of them.

Even in our attic we can find that middle path, where the window is unshuttered and brings in sunlight and fresh air; where the cobwebs glisten with mutlicolored opal-essence; where the dust glitters like falling stars into our open palms. Or where the attic is completely empty and spacious. Vast and free.