There are many facets to a magickal path: meditation, ritual, divination, working with nature and more. This path of relating to the immediate world around me has been unfolding throughout my life, and most recently, I have been learning this communion with Mother Nature is possible without the use of hallucinogens.

In an exercise of building a conscious relationship with nature, last week I spent some time walking around the property where I live in Marfa. I made note of which plants were growing in which directions, which plants grew together, how old certain trees were. Part of this practice also involved me standing in front of my door and noting what I saw: any objects with faces on them, any lizards, spiders, etc.

Spiders can give great early warning signs, and though I did not see her on this particular afternoon, I do know there is a tarantula who lives in a hole outside the door to my Holy Guardian Angel’s altar. David Sleeper calls her Harrietta.

Early Saturday morning, around 3am, I couldn’t sleep, so I stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. I didn’t have my glasses on, but I noticed a shadowy black circle down by my feet. I flicked the lighter on, and held the flame towards the shadow and saw it was Harietta.

”Oh, you almost scared me. I wasn’t expecting to see you there. Hello. Would you mind letting me know if there is an intruder or guest arriving?”

I didn’t hear an audible response, but at least I did my part in practicing communicating with nature.

Around sunset on Sunday evening, I saw Harietta scaling the wall. "Oh! Hello,” I greeted her, though admittedly a little frightened. Befriending a tarantula is new to me. I wondered if she was giving me a warning or if she was simply getting her steps in.

I hadn’t seen Harietta around for weeks, and then all of a sudden I’m seeing her everyday.

The place where I live in Marfa is an old military fort, and my room opens out to a courtyard. Since my dog, Tupes, is blind and deaf, I leave my door open 98% of the time, so he can go in and out at his leisure.

This morning, while doing yoga, I noticed the curtains dancing to the wind, and there under the lacy dancer, I saw a certain hairy, brown, 8 legged creature assuredly entering the room I call mine. As far as I know, Harietta has never previously entered my room, though to be sure, I’d often close my door when I’d see her out and about in the courtyard - still unlearning my unconscious bias against tarantulas.

When she moseyed into my room, my first thought was, “How do I get her out without have to touch her?” I had never picked up a tarantula before, but I had seen people do it. How was I going to address this situation? It seemed cruel to scoop her in a jar like some mundane cricket, so I grabbed one of my 12-step daily readers and tried to shew her out the door. She was confused and a little irritated, lifting up on her hind legs. Harmless.

I spoke out loud to her, “Harietta, you know I am inclined to be frightened, but I know you’re safe to pick up.” So I reached out to grab her. Her legs were hairy yet soft. I chickened out when she started to move; I pulled my hand back.

Try again. I had no choice. “Okay, Harietta,” I reached for her, blacked out a little, and carried her outside. She was so soft.

”Thank you for letting me know I am safe,” I heard myself say. How profound we can be when we don’t mean to be, and how wise, in fact, is nature. I thought this was the end of the story, that Harietta was telling me I am safe.

But the story isn’t over. A few hours later, I was leaving to go to the post office and Dollar General (the charms of living in Marfa), and as I was leaving the courtyard, the door opened, and it was a previous resident of this old military fort. He had returned to work for the owner and give tours while he’s here. Interestingly enough, I feel uncomfortable around this man, so I gave him a cold Germanic hello. “What are you doing here?” I said.

When I returned from my outing, I recalled my request of Harietta, “Would you mind letting me know if there is an intruder or guest arriving?” I will definitely be paying attention the next time she walks into my room.