I
found this shady spot under an amazing oak. The grass was park-like and I
loved the quiet. Pushing all the running chatter from my mind was an
on-going process, but then I noticed the smallest of distractions; right
next to where I had set my books down was an industrious camp of ants.
They were all very busy; each one seemed to be in a hurry.
My eyes followed a line of them ascending the oak I leaned against. I turned a little and looked back at the tree. The line of ants wound around each piece of tree bark and they appeared to march single file and with such determination. Just up a bit a giant colorful moth clung to the tree. The quiet footsteps of the ants that passed just next to the moth didn't awaken it. It wasn't without color, but the colors were muted. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I had to hang onto something while I slept.
I remember reading in a Carlos Castaneda book how the moth was considered knowledge by the Yaqui Indians. How that came to be I haven't a clue, but what became suddenly aware to me was my inability to curtail my mental chatter. I hadn't stopped for even a moment.
The thought about moths being associated with knowledge led me to wonder about the general awareness the insect world might have. How odd it must be to be even partially aware of humans, such gigantic creatures who seem to go around oblivious to their plight.
It must be some kind of awareness that causes roaches to scatter when the lights come on. Suddenly they know they can be seen. They become aware their color is different than the color of the floor or wall they are against, and now the giant creatures can see them. Was it over time they became aware?
The amount we don't know or understand is staggering. But then there must be an evolution to knowledge with rules and time schedules of its own. I expect we are in the infancy of our knowledge as it pertains to those we haphazardly step on or swat with our newspaper.
My eyes followed a line of them ascending the oak I leaned against. I turned a little and looked back at the tree. The line of ants wound around each piece of tree bark and they appeared to march single file and with such determination. Just up a bit a giant colorful moth clung to the tree. The quiet footsteps of the ants that passed just next to the moth didn't awaken it. It wasn't without color, but the colors were muted. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I had to hang onto something while I slept.
I remember reading in a Carlos Castaneda book how the moth was considered knowledge by the Yaqui Indians. How that came to be I haven't a clue, but what became suddenly aware to me was my inability to curtail my mental chatter. I hadn't stopped for even a moment.
The thought about moths being associated with knowledge led me to wonder about the general awareness the insect world might have. How odd it must be to be even partially aware of humans, such gigantic creatures who seem to go around oblivious to their plight.
It must be some kind of awareness that causes roaches to scatter when the lights come on. Suddenly they know they can be seen. They become aware their color is different than the color of the floor or wall they are against, and now the giant creatures can see them. Was it over time they became aware?
The amount we don't know or understand is staggering. But then there must be an evolution to knowledge with rules and time schedules of its own. I expect we are in the infancy of our knowledge as it pertains to those we haphazardly step on or swat with our newspaper.
How sad are we?
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