My friend Sue and I took a walk in Ft. Ward today. The weather was amazing, the air laden with moisture. Banana slugs were in abundance on the trails.
It has been so hot and dry the last few weeks that living creatures who desire moisture were undercover—under logs, or leaves, or moss.
We came upon a snail with a brown stripy shell. His head was fully extended and his antennae were pushing at a large piece of lichen.
Why was he doing this, we wondered? Do snails eat lichen, was this for a later midnight snack? Would he ever get it home?
Sue, in a New York accent, yelled out, “Oy, lichen head.”
“I’m home with the kids trying to keep peace, and you got your head up some lichen…” I responded. And on and on we went, laughing uproariously at our silliness. The moisture in the air plumped us up for fun, I guess, and we needed it. Laugh out loud needed it.
Last night, I was thinking about that snail and I shrunk myself down to his size and wondered if I was confronted with a piece of lichen three times my size, what I would think.
Do I go over it? Too high. Do I go around it? No telling how far it extends on either side of me. What should I do when confronted with an obstacle so much larger then myself?
I explore it with my antennae. I try to feel out it’s parameters. I use my imagination. I get tired. I wonder if I’m being stupid. I refuse to give up, then I give up. I take a break and come back at it. I make up a story.
We are all snails right now. Trapped in our homes trying to feel our way forward.
God, the world is a wonderful place, filled with magic, the quickening pulse, the life lived small and large. What is a virus but a little piece of rampant life trying to shoulder it’s way into importance. Look at me, look at me. Not to get too fanciful, oops I already passed that measure, think of the teeming, crawling, climbing, oozing life on the forest floor.
All life wants to live. All life. We make a mistake thinking that we are the pinnacle. Maybe not. We are just one iteration of this life force. We are a destructive iteration but it seems like all living creatures feed on each other. There’s no way around that. Who will win? Hopefully no one. If we keep ourselves in balance with the whole.
I don’t think man can keep himself in balance, anymore than the beaver can say “one more tree and I’m done” or a virus can say “one more death and I’m down.” Or a man can say “I have enough, I am replete.”
Life is greedy.
Still it’s grand isn’t it? To be alive with all life around me, chewing, tweeting, laughing. It’s grand.
Hello. Yes, this is Dog 