🕷️ Knock Before Entering
When I lived in Southern Colorado,
I hoped I would someday travel farther south
to see the tarantulas moving across the landscape.
I never did.
I knew that each year,
mature male tarantulas leave their burrows
and wander across the Colorado prairie in search of females.
People often call it a migration.
But today I learned the part of the story I had never heard.
He knocks on her door.
When a male finds the burrow of a female,
he doesn’t simply walk inside.
He taps and drums near the entrance,
sending vibrations through the ground and her webbing.
It is part of his courtship
a way of announcing that the creature standing outside her home
is a potential mate.
And then he waits for her response.
Respect Begins at the Boundary
We often think of respect as something grand.
Sometimes it is as simple as recognizing:
This is your space.
I do not have the right to enter simply because I have arrived.
A boundary isn’t necessarily a rejection.
A closed door doesn’t always mean go away.
Sometimes it simply means:
Knock.
Wait.
Let the one inside decide whether to open it.
There is something remarkably beautiful about that.
A little hairy bachelor can wander across miles of prairie searching for her.
He can find the door.
He can ask.
But she still gets to answer.
What the Tarantula Reminded Me
Perhaps respect isn’t standing farther away from one another.
Perhaps it is learning how to approach.
To announce ourselves rather than intrude.
To ask rather than assume.
To recognize another being’s boundary without interpreting it as an insult.
And to understand that an invitation means more when the door was theirs to open.
Someday,
I still hope to stand on that Colorado prairie
and watch those wandering tarantulas for myself.
I already know what I’ll be saying.
“Look at him!”
And now I’ll know where he’s going.
He has a door to knock on. 🕷️💛
