CONTRIBUTION · 20th September 2010
Let me ask you a question. It is a question older than the Earth, and a peer to that which sired the very sun, Nature itself.
Once upon a bone there was a Worm, and Worm did manifest hunger, and Worm WAS hunger. Hunger drove Worm. Worm consumed and consumed and was so driven to consume that there was no passing moment of distraction from hunger; not love, not pleasure of the wash of life, not even the contemplation of his own being, but only the seeking of that which would appear to assuage hunger, yet never did.
So deeply driven was Worm by hunger that even though his whole being, his very heart and soul, did seek at every moment and with unmitigated zeal to slavishly toil at the work of giving unto hunger that which it craved, he did not notice that so all-encompassing and unrelenting was hunger’s unfeeling mastery of Worm’s soul, that Worm’s very own being was at the same time being consumed by another aspect of hunger.
Soon enough, though it seemed to Worm to be an eternity of toil; irreductable single-minded slavery, hunger began to relent from one appetite, only to surpass it with another, even more intensely compelling one, and that was the compulsion to sleep. So profoundly did Worm ache for sleep, yet so incompatible was this activity with the very nature of Worm’s being, that he created within himself, with nothing more, nor less, than purest will, driven by intolerable need for fulfillment. A fundamental change in his own being enabled him to cast about himself a protective tent derived from his own flesh’s by-products; a tent within which he lost all conscious existence and faded into a sleep so profound it was as death to him.
Only too soon thereafter did he wake, but no longer as Worm. A whole new being was he; so changed and transformed as to be a new form of life, unrelated in any way with the person of Worm before. So uniquely and completely different from Worm was he now that even his mode of mobilization was in every conceivable way transformed.
Now one may be tempted to think this a miracle one would supplicate God for, but no, this was a transformation so untenable with the continuation of Worm’s conscious self that it was as though Worm had never existed, insofar as the memories and conscious existence of moth was concerned; for Moth was who emerged from the nest Worm has cast for the assuagement of hunger’s demands.
But, lest we forget the driving force behind this transformation, so like death as to be indistinguishable from it; from the very moment of his birth Moth now was infused with an insatiable hunger, but this time it was to procreate. This hunger overwhelmed and invaded his being so completely that there was never from the very first moment of the very first moment of his awakening, his birth, any room for any awareness other than the need to fill hunger’s demand. So completely did hunger possess the being of Moth that Moth was unable to eat, to sleep, to contemplate, or even to consider the consequences of his actions and choices.
Moth took to the air like a missile of single-minded malice, seeking with every sense and sinew of his being a female moth into who’s carapace he could drive and spill his seed in such profusion as to empty his own guts of vitality and the very energy of life; such that he thereafter, even as he witnessed the terrible horror of casting from himself his own flesh, evaporated from individual existence and dropped dead to the ground sans dignity or grace. Yea, he did stab into her with such violence as only nature can perpetuate, like a nasty railroad spike infested with parasites for her own horrible demise, cracking open like an over-ripe carbuncle and spilling into the world a million times more Moth’s progeny who would then find themselves infused with ubiquitous hunger again in the likeness of Worm reborn a million times over……
Now, I ask you; what is alive? Is Worm alive? Moth? He who exists only for a moment in a moment, who changes so completely as to have no relativity with his former self; who lives without mercy and then dies gracelessly having never for a moment known self-determination or will and who’s total real and existential experience was taken up in the pursuit of hunger’s greedy need? Was he alive?
Or, was it Hunger who lived? Hunger; that concept and insubstantial precept, which notwithstanding, lives eternally; perpetuating and multiplying itself without restriction, change or cessation. Is it He who is the manifestation of life in the universe?
I leave you now to ponder and contemplate this question, you who praise Mother Earth and Lord Nature as the nurturers and well-wishers of we who raise our insipid voices in abject and unthinking worship because that is easier than to question or take the responsibility to manifest in our brief lives those qualities and virtues of which Nature and the Earth are so mindlessly devoid and unconscious.
But I would ask of you; be the manifestations of love, of grace, of charity, hospitality, forgiveness and mercy. Shine with the light of dignity and gentle-speech. Let us make ourselves in the image of nothing in nature, but of something better and above. Call it whatever name you wish or call it nothing, but for the love of Whatever-It-Is, be more than a mere spew of flesh.
…hee hee… He’s Baaaa-aaack
The truth is, it's my navel
Comment by Brad North on 7th October 2010
I know this barrage of imagery walks like a metaphor (to use a simile), and so I realize that you may not really mean that a moth is actually "full of malice" when he "stab(s) into her with such violence as only nature can perpetuate, like a nasty railroad spike infested with parasites for her own horrible demise" blah blah, but you did say this when you could have said anything.
I get it, you hate sex, and anything to do with "the flesh", as only the religious call it - at least those who maintain that we must be more than animals, and are therefore all basically sinful from birth because we're not as good as we could be.
Even though you say you want "love, grace, charity, hospitality, forgiveness, mercy, light of dignity and gentle-speech", all good things but we have to wade through far too much self-hatred to get there, and accept the fantasy of something beyond where all the goodness comes from. Things get smarmy pretty quickly from there. When I see goodness in my friends, I know it comes not from some fantasy place but from THEM, and that's why I love them.
People are basically good, and sometimes we're not. All of the above qualities, and more, simply come from us, this certain kind of animal. Most of it we share with a lot of other animals, just like we share the water, the air, the necessary minerals.
Just like we share DNA.