ROLY POLY
Today I saw a roly-poly stuck in a spider’s web. You know what a roly-poly is, right? It’s a member of the wood lice family that rolls itself up into a ball when threatened. They’re also called “pill bugs.” Anyway, this little guy was stuck, frantically trying to free itself from the web. The more it struggled, the more it became ensnared in the sticky strands clutching tighter and tighter.
The spider, aware of its writhing prey, sat at the opposite end of the web. It patiently allowed the roly-poly to tire out, before expending its own energy to wrap the bug into a mummified feeding bag. The spider also stood sentry, interpreting the vibrations broadcast through the web’s fibers, ready to rush in if the roly-poly was able to break free of its trap.
I stood there pondering the doomed inevitability of the poor bug, whose only crime was walking into this snare while trying to survive — not unlike the rest of us. I thought about the cruel fingers of fate, how they wrap themselves stealthily around unsuspecting victims, then close their grip without warning. “How wretched is that spider,” I concluded from my biased point of view.
I grabbed a stick to destroy the web and set the roly-poly free. Then it occurred to me the spider was not wretched. After all, it’s a spider. All it’s trying to do is survive, just like the roly-poly and just like you and me. However, the way it survives is through the misfortune of others. Can I blame it for that? It’s only doing what it knows to do.
That is not cruelty. It’s just another aspect of life. The spider does not have other options available to make different decisions. If I noticed the spider writhing in panic or became aware of its struggle to cling to life in a desperate situation, would I not be inclined toward compassion?
I put the stick down. Who am I to decide whether the roly-poly should live, thereby making the spider’s life more difficult? I wondered how anyone can decide whether to interfere with the natural course of events. Then it dawned on me, I am as much part of the natural course of events as any other creature or phenomena in this universe.
I am a human. I have options. I can decide to let the tide of events create outcomes or to step into the flow of life and provide a different ripple in the natural course of unfolding events. But first I had to examine my motives. Were they based on love or fear?
I looked with compassion on the roly-poly struggling with all its dwindling might to choose life. I looked at the spider, able bodied, ready to carry on its own right for survival. I thought about how despite our best laid plans, some natural cause can still disrupt them, making us adjust accordingly.
I picked up the stick and released the roly-poly. At the commotion I introduced, the spider retreated to a safe spot. The roly-poly wound itself up. After a moment, the roly-poly unwound and trudged along on its path, while the spider got busy rebuilding its web. The spider did not curse me. The roly-poly did not thank me. Why curse or thank a natural course of events?
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!THE ORIGINS OF WHINING
Though there is no empirical evidence to support my claim, I believe whining was part of the human communication arsenal right from the get-go.
When Eve whined to Adam about the wormy apple. When the first humanoid trudged out of Africa complaining to its mate about the sand between its toes.
When the first Neanderthal woman asked the first Neanderthal man why he brought that smelly bison hide into their cozy cave. Didn’t he know the stench would wake the baby and she’d be up all night, unable to attend to his carnal-needs properly until the next Mastodon hunt?
Although whining is perhaps most often associated with the female gender there’s rampant evidence of male whining. It can be more subtle though, as many the male whiner remains insecure in his whining skills until he has had time to perfect them.
For instance, it took Mark Anthony years and the birth of a son to work up the courage to utter to Cleopatra, “Come on, Cleo. Can’t I talk about being the Emperor of Egypt without you giving me the ‘I’m-gonna-to-kill-myself-with-an-asp’ routine?”
Then there was Napoleon who, undoubtedly already suffering from the short-man syndrome of inadequacy, would snap, “I put my hand inside my shirt because I WANT to, that’s why!”
Whining may sound similar to other forms of communication, like ranting, raving, nagging or pouting. The whiner can be labeled a “haunt” or “nag”. However, whining is distinct — it has a goal whether it’s directed at another person (an “external” whine) or at one’s own self (an “internal” whine).
An external whine must be practiced and refined so the listener (victim) of the whine will listen long enough to execute the whiner’s intent without rejecting that intent outright. This is a delicate and subtle dance, and not for the faint of heart or resolve.
The whiner must frequently ignore outward signs of agitation in the listener (victim) such as rapid blinking, jerky body movements or drooling. He or she must plow ahead just until that glazed-over look is achieved in the listener (victim). This listener (victim) is now ripe for acquiescence.
However, note that the listener’s (victim’s) agreement to the whiner’s request should be obtained artfully lest the listener (victim) snap out of their stupor and resist. In such case, all will be for naught and the whiner will (best case) need to start the whine du-jour all over again; worst case — embark on a new whine.
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!
