Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Fishy and Sluggie brought me a huge ant at the library the other day. They had seen someone intentionally step on it, but it had been left only horribly maimed and not dead. There was clearly no hope for it, even though they wanted to save it, and I regretfully told Sluggie to put it out of its misery. She couldn't do it, and asked me to do so instead. It will probably seem stupid to most people, but it was hard. Life is sacred and mysterious and miraculous to me. And knowing that by the simple pressure of my foot I would be removing an enitity from the universe, crushing out a spark of life so easily -- so suddenly -- was hard. It even bothers me to kill mosquitoes. Yes, I do it, but the act of killing anything is just so hard to wrap my brain around. One minute there is something alive and moving with a purpose and intention of its own, and the next there is only an empty shell, and the motivating force or spirit has vanished. Where does it go?