the itsy bitsy spider is not what it seems

A truth neither itsy nor bitsy awaits us at the center of this web

There is a light drizzle in Los Angeles that, according to the news, is Hurricane Hilary.

Though I’m sure the vibe may certainly shift into more hurricane territory soon, right now its mostly just a whole lotta hooplah and very little to show for it besides harried phone calls from the parents of every single LA resident saying, “THE NEWS SAID HURRICANE ARE YOU ALIVE?” And every LA resident looking out at the 80 degree, sunny, smoggy Saturday afternoon air and saying, “Yes. I’m fine.”

No, no I jest — my hubris showing worse than my epidormis, I am counting my chickens before they hatch which, btw, who cares? Chickens hatch from eggs. If I count the eggs, I’ll probably get the chicken count roughly right? WRONG.

Not all eggs contain chickens.

but this isn’t about chickens

Nor is it about the five little ducks and their mama, a case that, as many BAT readers already know, nearly broke me.

Today, with the rain and talk of Hurricane, one’s mind naturally skitters over to another famous nursery rhyme - The Itsy Bitsy Spider.

Do not be fooled by the title’s masterful rebrand campaigh meant to endear lil’ tots to an otherwise terrifying animal (not much joy in getting the kids together and singing “The Spider”). There is something bad news bears in the middle of this sordid web. But it isn’t what you think.

The horrors of this nursery rhyme are not criminal. There’s no extraordinary evil lurking in the shadows of this one-stanza banger. Nay, the horrors here are routine and rote — just another day for another spider.

Here’s the source text:

The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout.

Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.

Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain,

and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.

First off, what the hell is a water spout? A google search reveals myriad images of what appears to be a water tornado?

How the hell is that a ‘water spout’?? Nothing is what it seems! But also, I don’t think this is what the spider climbed up.

No, the waterspout in question is a simple gutter release valve, which I always thought was also just ‘the gutter’ but I guess not who cares this isn’t important.

As this physics-defying image shows, the spider climbs up the spout (he’s already at the top in panel one (he is bigger than the gutter).

Then, a very angry rain cloud comes. Why it is angry, we shant ever know.

Then the way-too-happy sun comes in all clueless about what’s happening and continues the shrinking of the gutter that the rain cloud started and now the spider climbs up again.

So what’s so bad about this story? What could possibly be so scary? What could be so wrong about going up a spout, getting sloshed back down by rain and then climbing up again. Tis a hero’s journey, no? Try, fail, try again, succeed.

Yes.

In isolation, the story is a W.

But what happens the next day?

Up. Down. Up.

And the next day?

Back up, rain water slide on down, and again once more with gusto, back up.

Again and again and again and again for all of eternity.

This is no happy tale.

This is a series of Ls.

This is Sisyphus for toddlers.

again with the boulder?

The story goes that Sisyphus cheated death twice and was then made to carry a rock up a hill. Once up there, Sisyphus would do a lil happy dance like ‘yoo i did it bout to eat snack and take a nap’ but then the boulder rolls back down and Sisyphus is like ‘what u gotta be kiddin me.’

And that happens again and again and again until forever.

Such a fate, we must surmise, has also befallen our Itsy, Bitsy friend the Spider.

And as the case with Sisyphus, the tale is meant to warn us of the pointless monotony of life, the drabness of one day becoming the next becoming the next until you’re a grandpa spider and you’re not so itsy bitsy and death is but a spout or two away.

So what is there to do? Can the spider, idk, do anything else?

Let us again refer to the source text, which says nothing of the spider even trying to do anything else. This omission is intentional — there IS NOTHING else. Life is one’s attempt to climb up the water spout, nature in the form of rain pummeling one back down, and one trying again.

In case that was unclear, here’s a much clearer visual representation:

And yet

Besides being a misspelling of a sexually transmitted disease, Sisyphus is most often interpreted as a sad tale. It’s all so meaningless and here it is laid bare, our fate laid out before us whether up a hill or waterspout, it’s all the same in the end.

Idk tho.

At least the spider and Sisyphus are alive?

And from the looks of it, they’re both leading pretty fulfilling lives? They exercise daily. Sysiphus is JACKED and the spider is mentally well (we hope to god this is true).

What’s the big problem with doing the same shit every day? What if, by accepting life as variations on a monotonous theme, we can become more free to enjoy each climb a little bit more? Then maybe we’d notice how different each climb actually was, like hey it was super windy today or hey did anyone notice the viscosity of the water it was like super viscous today.

Plus, we don’t have to do it alone. We can bring our family and friends with us to push the boulders and climb the spouts. Then, when we hurtle toward the ground in failure, we can say, ‘well that sucked but also, it was sorta funny.’

As with most existential thought, the end road of ‘it’s all meaningless’ is ‘ok, given that, we are free to make whatever meaning we want.’

Which honestly, doesn’t sound half bad. Some of us build cars and others sell insurance and some even write little essays, over and over and over again. What a joy. What a gift.

Yes, it also sucks.

So what?

Push the boulders and climb the mountains. Or don’t. They’re the same thing and either way you’re doing that same thing, again and again. In fact, NOT pushing the boulder has itself been my nearly impossible boulder to push, being the little workaholic I am, staving off life’s absurdity by just cranking on this piece for a few more minutes.

As great philosopher Camoo once said, “The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."

We are all itsy and bitsy and busy doing our own little things, happy sometimes and mostly not, alive always until the end. Not a bad deal, if you ask me.

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For more of Both Are True’s dissection of seminal cultural texts, check out my analysis of the Pina Colada song:

And, as referenced earlier, my deep dive into the Five Little Ducklings:

Comments

1. what is your boulder to push? your spout to climb?

2. do you believe life has meaning and if so what?