A few years back, I lived deep in the woods, 40 miles from my job. I worked for a terrible and terrifying boss. I had a rare 3 days off in a row and was delighted. The sultry summer morning of my first free day I had begun organizing my kitchen, but the heat thwarted my efforts. I decided to go for a swim at a lake 20 miles down the road, but I couldn’t quickly locate my keys. I looked in all the obvious places and pockets, with no luck.

I took the time to eat breakfast and then began another search. 5 hours later… No keys. Over the next 2 days, which I had hoped would be lovely and restful, I literally tore my house apart, being watchful both for my keys and the large spiders who loved the dark corners of my house. The heat, my deathly fear of spiders, and my chaotic wild worry over not finding my keys had me breaking out in sweats, but I didn’t quit. I walked the yard, the road, looked through every coat, pant and shirt pocket. I gutted my car, and even looked in ridiculous places: the fridge, the mailbox, even the rustic outhouse I’d built the year before: No keys.

By the afternoon that I was to return to work I knew I had to call in. I had no car keys, and my work keys were on the same ring. My boss was LIVID, though I did not reveal the true story. I sat in my living room utterly defeated, glancing around at the upturned cushions and chairs and all the books I’d thrown on the floor.

My eye caught the title of a book given me the year before. My friends had always labeled me a “mystic,” a “shaman,” “magic woman…” and were always giving me books about such things. This one was on shamanism; I picked it up and opened to a random spot. It talked about “spirit animals,” how to call them to you, how to ask for their help.

While I wasn’t entirely ignorant of the concept, I was pretty skeptical. Still, I liked to assume that if I did have one, it would be something like a wolf, a mustang, perhaps an owl or eagle. “Why not give it a try?” I thought, “maybe my wild horse would ride me to my keys?”

I followed the instructions in the book, laid down on the bed, quieted my skepticism and worry, and called my “spirit animal” to help me find my keys.

I was there for a few minutes while nothing happened, and thought about giving up, getting up, and going back to my frantic search, but slowly… silently… oh so softly… I “felt” something, a tug? at the blanket beside me.

With eyes that were somehow able to see, even though my physical eyes were closed, I “looked” down at my feet; what I saw panicked and paralyzed me. I gasped, yet… I can explain it no better than this, in my “real world” panic, I had a “spiritual” calm. I watched a huge white spider crawl up onto the bed, walk onto my legs, and make her graceful way to my chest. Honestly, she was beautiful. For all her enormity, she was thin, almost ballerina-like. She was pure white, and as absurd as it sounds, she had compassionate eyes. They met my own, and it seemed an agreement was made.

We both “nodded,” of sorts, and she turned and crawled down the bed, across the floor to the bedroom door. There, her eyes became mine. She made a right turn down the hall, past the bath, past the closet, rounded the corner to the kitchen, and continued down the long walk past the counter and oven to the table. Up the table leg she went, to the tabletop, then across to the farthest side. She stopped a moment, looked into the dark corner and proceeded down, and gracefully stepping on to a small UPS box. She paused, then flipped it over with her lovely long leg and, POOF, my vision was over.

I opened my eyes with a mixture of madness and excitement, fear and wonder. Discombobulated, I looked around, no spider; nothing had changed, except… maybe?  I haltingly stood up. What if I found the keys there? What if I didn’t? Either one would have me questioning myself; was I crazy, or was I? What?

I made my way down the hall, my heart drumming wildly. I moved around the corner squinting to see if I could spot a box under the table. It was too dark under there. I grabbed the table. It wouldn’t budge when I tried to move it, its heavy metal legs having sunk into the old linoleum. I tugged, yanked, pulled and finally it gave way. I dragged it out so I could peer behind.

There was a small UPS box.

Breaking out again into a sweat, I leaned down and picked up the box.

Beneath it were my keys.

Had I tossed them on the messy table coming home late that night from work and they’d landed in the box? Had the box then tipped over into that dark corner?

I fell into the chair next to me, both laughing and crying.

I’ve not lost my keys since.
I’m also no longer afraid of spiders.