Spider Woman, like her male counterpart, appears in the origin and other stories of countless tribal nations. When I say “counterpart,” I don’t mean a direct analogue differing only by gender; I simply mean that Spider appears in both male and female incarnations to various peoples, and their roles and identities vary widely.
Despite growing up hearing about “Grandaddy Long Legs,” I tend to think of Spider as distinctly female — only natural, I suppose, since most of the web-building spiders, those I’m most likely to see, are female. But I think of her as she at least as much because of our own traditional stories as anything else. And she’s always permitted — encouraged, even — to share our space.
For some peoples, especially those of the Northern Plains, Spider manifests as male. He’s often a trickster, like Iktomi of the Oceti Sakowin, the Sioux — a clown of sorts whose role is to shine a light on the worst of human behavior by making it ridiculous. But his “worst” can be pretty bad, and it’s not all fun and games. Although it’s easy to laugh at Iktomi’s exploits, it’s unwise to fail to take him seriously, because he also deals in affairs that can be dark and deadly.
Some of the other peoples in the same region regard Spider in a similarly trickster-ish fashion: To the Arapaho and Gros Ventre, he is called any of several variants of Niatha or Nixant; to the Cheyenne, variations on Wiho or Wihio. In all cases, he resembles Iktomi in his clown-like nature, sometimes kind and sometimes cruel, but nearly always needlessly, heedlessly foolish. It is no coincidence that, in all of these tribal nations and their close linguistic relations, the name for “Spider” also came to mean the word for “white man.”
To points east and south, however, Spider is often seen as we see her: as a female spirit. In one old Osage story, she becomes the unlikely symbol, what my own people would call a totem, of The People. They tell a story of the ancient times, when a leader sought guidance and direction for his people from the spirits of the animal world, and so ventured into the woods in search of a suitable being to represent such wisdom. Head down, he looked for signs and traces of various animals who might make suitable symbolic guides (I am resisting using the most applicable English term here, “mascot,” for what should be obvious reasons). As he looked, finding many traces but no animals, he heard a voice asking him why he walked with his head bowed. It was Spider, seated in her web. He explained his need, and she offered to serve, a notion he promptly rejected as insufficiently bold or glamorous. When she challenged him, he asked her what she could possibly offer that another animal, deer or wolf or bear, something useful, something strong, some thing fierce, could not. “Patience,” she replied, noting that all she need do is sit and wait and watch for her opportunity, because eventually, everything comes to her . . . just as the man did.
Perhaps the sense of patience, of waiting and watching, is part of why I also think of her as a gatekeeper of sorts.
Here in the Southwest, she’s a gatekeeper in a more tangible way, one who guards particular boundaries, whether physical or spiritual. For the Hopi, she’s central to much of their origin story; to the Diné, she is a protector of sorts and the giver of a very special gift to the people, the gift of weaving. In this part of the country, she also often lends the beauty of her web to the Skystone, with all of the qualities of protection and prosperity that that implies. Perhaps it’s also no accident that turquoise with a spiderweb matrix tends to be the most valuable, even within a single mine source.
To my cousins, the Cree, she provided the web on which the First People were lowered to this world, quite literally a gatekeeper between this world and the source whence the people came — a means of creation that shares commonalities with our own, and indeed, with the literal translation of our name for ourselves. But for our people, she’s a gatekeeper of another sort: a gatekeeper of our dreams, who mediates between our tangible world and the world we cannot see, the one we inhabit when our conscious minds rest.
The story of the dreamcatcher is one that appears in many tribal cultures, and many, my own included, take credit for its invention. The stories are remarkably similar, sometimes with an inversion or two on fundamental points. Depending on where among our people you travel, you may hear different accounts. An abbreviated version of the story that was related to me as a child is told thusly:
The People had strayed from the path set for them by Spirit. They had grown ungrateful; they neglected their
duties; they failed to give thanks for all that they had been given. Exasperated, Spirit at last withdrew his protection from their sleep. Their sleep became troubled by bad dreams; eventually, they grew afraid to sleep, or were unable to sleep at all. The entire village became ill. One young mother, afraid for her infant, went outside her tipi to pray to Spirit for help, but she felt no answer. Grandmother Spider, seated nearby weaving her web, saw the young mother’s tears and asked her what troubled her. She explained that she was worried for her infant, tormented by nightmares, unable to sleep, and now so ill that she feared the child would not survive. Grandmother Spider understood what it was to fear for one’s children, and, taking pity on the new mother, gave her two gifts: the first, her own web; the second, instructions. She told her to fashion a hoop of red willow bark, and stretch the web across it, making sure to leave a hole at the center; she was to hang it above the child’s head. Grandmother Spider told the young mother that the bad dreams would fly through the hole, but the web would catch the child’s good dreams, and those would be the ones the infant remembered. Thanking Grandmother Spider, the mother did as she had been instructed, and her child recovered. She then shared the secret with the rest of the village, along with the lesson that they must be thankful and return to the correct path. The people followed the young mother’s example, and their sleep was untroubled by bad dreams from that day forward.
There are variations that say the dreamcatcher works in the opposite way: that the good dreams fly through the hole in the web, while the web catches the bad dreams and neutralizes them, so that the sleeper cannot remember them. Either way, it’s a beautiful story, and an important one. Modern medicine, including psychiatric medicine, knows well the importance of sound sleep and healthy dreaming, and the effects of an unsound lifestyle on both.
Wings has created spider-themed pieces in the past; they appear scattered throughout this post. Some, like the narrow cuff near the top (Spiderweb Moon) and the two solitaires (Spirit Web and Spiderweb Blue), reflect her image only in the stone used and in their names, but what webs they are indeed. Others, like the necklace above, may not be especially true to their namesake in the detail, but the symbolism is clear enough. With a name like Earth’s Web, it evokes the sort of imagery in the Cree and Hopi creation stories.
It was some four years ago that he fashioned the first showpiece cuff, the one pictured near the very top in apple coral and crazy lace agate. It was a whole new motif, time-consuming in design and expensive to create, and she was named, appropriately enough, Grandmother Spider: distinctly feminine colors and gemstones, set into a piece that evoked all of her great power and age and wisdom. And then, the current incarnation:
From her description in our Bracelets Gallery here on the site:
Spider Woman
Our dreams are the threshold between our contemporary existence and ways much older than memory. In many traditions, Spider Woman is the gatekeeper of such thresholds, and today, we still use the gift of her web to protect our dreams. Here, her ancient power is embodied in this spectacular cuff, hand-formed from a single piece of sterling silver and adorned with stones of protection and power. Her eight legs, texturized by hand-stamping extend from the dazzling oval lapis cabochon that forms her body. Hand-cut, hand-stamped pincers and silver spacer beads accent the protective Skystone of Sleeping Beauty turquoise that forms her head.
Sterling silver, lapis lazuli, and Sleeping Beauty turquoise
$1,200 + shipping, handling, and insurance
It wasn’t until sometime later that he felt moved to create a new version, and I’ve often wondered whether the dreamcatcher story was at work subconsciously as he chose the design: a Skystone the color of heavens at midday for her head; a lapis so deep and dark it’s nearly purple, the color of night, for her body; silver spacer beads as round sun-like orbs; crescent moons stamped along the length of all eight legs. What better for she who mediates between day and night, between waking and dreams, between this world and another, more shadowy one?
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
