The answer is always to touch grass, even when it seems like that’s what you were just doing. Touch more grass, then. Touch it more deeply. Poke it and prod it. Because there's shit that you can watch for hours out there. There are lessons to be learned in every square inch of Everything.

All of this to say I went for a walk in the woods. I noticed a dead tree leaned up against a few living trees. I'm in the habit of assisting gravity in bringing dead tree-parts down to the ground. I see it as a way of freeing the living trees that support them. I like seeing how the living tree recoils and bounces back to a more neutral position. But this particular tree was bigger than any others I’ve attempted to release, so I didn’t know how to approach it.

I kicked it. A big chunk of bark flew off, the kind that seems like it's ready to get knocked off by the littlest of shakes, or, in this case, a kick with some kick.

super what?

That’s when I saw a shit ton of ants just, like, crawling around where the bark had been, and crawling around in the nooks and crannies of the piece of bark I’d kicked loose. I was like, “Oh shit, I just did some damage to this superorganism,” (also having a moment with ants right now). I felt bad, but I felt good knowing that I'd learned another samsara lesson: Every action has a consequence, and quite often the consequence is significant harm to a living thing. Or a lot of living things.

just the

The trouble with being so large an organism is that you often can’t see the damage you cause. The trouble with living inside this particular experience of temporality is that the human attention span isn't long enough to sit with the implications of all of our destructive actions. I won’t be sitting by the dead tree monitoring the ant colony to observe how it adapts. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to see deep inside the tree carcass, where most of the ant colony is likely still thriving. I would never be able to see the full iceberg. And even if I could, what would be the point of that, really? To reduce a beautiful waveform into an ugly particle?

So I moved on. And that’s when I saw a big black ant walking briskly through the grass. Something seemed to be attached to it. I crouched down and saw that the attached thing was another ant—same size, but seemingly dead. Every pine needle and blade of grass was an obstacle, but the ant only appeared more insistent on its path with each passing second.

It dropped the presumably dead ant a few times to change positions. Where was it going? I really wanted to find out, but my legs objected to my staying in a crouched position for that long. And I was being bitten up by mosquitos.

zzz

Moments like these make me wonder a lot of things. The primary thing I wonder is why. But I know the answer is blowing in the wind or something.

odyssey