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Yeah yeah yeah, I know I just posted about four hours ago, but I wanted to post a new thought of mine, and yet keep it seperate from the meme-thing I had in the previous post. Perhaps I'll just create a second LJ account specifically for philosophical stuff. I dunno.
ANYWAY...
I have decided that, of all creatures out there that I know of, the cicada is probably the most exemplary example of either suffering or Enlightenment.
It lives underground for seventeen years, during which time, it barely survives on what nutrients it can manage to leech from nearby plant life, which isn't much at all. It endures frigid winters, scalding summers, floods, frosts, and an extreme depravity of oxygen, without any option of getting out of the situation. Finally, after seventeen years (remember, if you're a student, this is a very large, at least 75% chunk of your life), it develops enough to be able to claw its way to the surface. Now, utterly exhausted from said excavation effort, it must quickly get to a safe place where it can safely shed its rapidly-growing-too-small exoskeleton for the first and final time. On its way, it must avoid being killed by any of the myriad threats in its new infinitely larger universe, including predators, rain, and anything larger than it falling on it. It will usually climb up whatever surface is closest a good three to four feet. That's like a human scaling a cliff the size of Mt. Rainier, in one go, as quickly as possible (which, in this case, isn't very fast at all). Once in position, it begins the agonizing pain of ripping free from its own skin that is to take place over the next hour or so.
Once free, the creature must sit there for three hours or more as its new skin and wings dry. If anything disturbs this process even the slightest, its wings will dry incredibly crinkled, and it won't be able to move hardly at all. Because it spends the first seventeen years of its life underground, it can't see at all, so it often flies blindly and latches onto whatever it can. Also, once its skin is shed, it loses its mouth parts, making it unable to consume. Three to five days later, the creature dies of starvation. During that time, it must race to mate as often as possible to continue the species. The eggs must be deposited in the ground again, which presents yet another struggle. The pain of death this animal feels is immense.
So, in light of all this, why does it continue? What point is there to such a painful life?
It lives this way because it does not know of any other way of life. It is perfectly content to exist in such miserable conditions because as far as it knows, that's the highest way of life imaginable.
This creature is magnificent.
ANYWAY...
I have decided that, of all creatures out there that I know of, the cicada is probably the most exemplary example of either suffering or Enlightenment.
It lives underground for seventeen years, during which time, it barely survives on what nutrients it can manage to leech from nearby plant life, which isn't much at all. It endures frigid winters, scalding summers, floods, frosts, and an extreme depravity of oxygen, without any option of getting out of the situation. Finally, after seventeen years (remember, if you're a student, this is a very large, at least 75% chunk of your life), it develops enough to be able to claw its way to the surface. Now, utterly exhausted from said excavation effort, it must quickly get to a safe place where it can safely shed its rapidly-growing-too-small exoskeleton for the first and final time. On its way, it must avoid being killed by any of the myriad threats in its new infinitely larger universe, including predators, rain, and anything larger than it falling on it. It will usually climb up whatever surface is closest a good three to four feet. That's like a human scaling a cliff the size of Mt. Rainier, in one go, as quickly as possible (which, in this case, isn't very fast at all). Once in position, it begins the agonizing pain of ripping free from its own skin that is to take place over the next hour or so.
Once free, the creature must sit there for three hours or more as its new skin and wings dry. If anything disturbs this process even the slightest, its wings will dry incredibly crinkled, and it won't be able to move hardly at all. Because it spends the first seventeen years of its life underground, it can't see at all, so it often flies blindly and latches onto whatever it can. Also, once its skin is shed, it loses its mouth parts, making it unable to consume. Three to five days later, the creature dies of starvation. During that time, it must race to mate as often as possible to continue the species. The eggs must be deposited in the ground again, which presents yet another struggle. The pain of death this animal feels is immense.
So, in light of all this, why does it continue? What point is there to such a painful life?
It lives this way because it does not know of any other way of life. It is perfectly content to exist in such miserable conditions because as far as it knows, that's the highest way of life imaginable.
This creature is magnificent.
