I’ve often wondered what animals communicate to each other. Take ants, when a whole bunch of them are going almost in single file in one direction and they meet others coming from the opposite direction. They stop and seem to be having a conversation of some kind, then they carry on in whatever direction they were going. Maybe once in a while the conversation goes like this:
Ant-with-the-crowd: "Hey, you're going in the wrong direction."
Single, independent-minded ant: "Don't tell me what to do."
Ant-with-the-crowd: "Well, the food is where we're all going, but hey, do whatever you want, it's your funeral."
Single, independent-minded ant: "Looks to me like you've got a lot of competition. By the time you get to the food it'll all be eaten up, or else you'll have to fight for it and eat too quickly and get indigestion at best. When I find food, it'll just be me, I can relax, eat at my leisure. See you 'round!"
He hurries off, ant-whistling, laughing.
The ant-with-the-crowd mutters "damn fool" as the mob jostles him in their haste to get there before everybody else does. Wherever ‘there’ is, because nobody actually knows, they’re all going on blind faith based on somebody’s word. Hopefully. Of course, the whole thing might just be a rumor started by some jerk with a twisted sense of humor. Ant-with-the-crowd stares after the independent-minded ant, unsure for a few seconds.
"Nah," he says to himself, "too risky. There must be food in
this direction otherwise we wouldn't all be going there."
“Who are you talking to?” says a crowd ant, “and move on, you’re stopping the flow.”
“Don’t tell me what to do” says ant-with-the-crowd crossly.
The other guy stares at him then hurries on, shaking his head, thinking “Weird. Must be some kind of mutant.”
They both get to the food and there’s plenty of it, but ant-with-the-crowd gets pushed aside and stepped on and has to fight real hard to get anything. Bruised and battered and still somehow hungry for something he can't put his ant-finger on he tells himself “well, this is how life is.” But his mind keeps wandering to the independent-minded ant. What if he found food and lots of it and he’s having a feast now in peace and quiet? Ant-with-the-crowd gets jealous just thinking about it.
As it happens, the independent-minded ant is crossing a veritable desert, tired, hungry and thirsty. He can’t see food or even a hint of the prospect of it and his rations will only last for a few more days.
He doubts himself, “Should I have gone with the rest, what if I die out here, alone, unknown, unremembered because I needed to do my own thing?” He thinks about it. Did he really have a choice? Well, sure, but only one built on speculation. No certainty either way, and sure this was uncomfortable but at least he was using his own ant-brain. Kind of. Maybe.
“Who are you talking to?” says a crowd ant, “and move on, you’re stopping the flow.”
“Don’t tell me what to do” says ant-with-the-crowd crossly.
The other guy stares at him then hurries on, shaking his head, thinking “Weird. Must be some kind of mutant.”
They both get to the food and there’s plenty of it, but ant-with-the-crowd gets pushed aside and stepped on and has to fight real hard to get anything. Bruised and battered and still somehow hungry for something he can't put his ant-finger on he tells himself “well, this is how life is.” But his mind keeps wandering to the independent-minded ant. What if he found food and lots of it and he’s having a feast now in peace and quiet? Ant-with-the-crowd gets jealous just thinking about it.
As it happens, the independent-minded ant is crossing a veritable desert, tired, hungry and thirsty. He can’t see food or even a hint of the prospect of it and his rations will only last for a few more days.
He doubts himself, “Should I have gone with the rest, what if I die out here, alone, unknown, unremembered because I needed to do my own thing?” He thinks about it. Did he really have a choice? Well, sure, but only one built on speculation. No certainty either way, and sure this was uncomfortable but at least he was using his own ant-brain. Kind of. Maybe.
“Life is
short” he says to himself, “and what’s the use of living if it’s not really
living? What's the point of being an ant if you're living like a brainless twit-sheep?”
“Well, what’s the use of living an independent life if it leads to your early death? What kind of living is that, huh?” says a sarcastic voice in his head.
The debate goes on for a few seconds, utterly confounding and exhausting him. “There’s no answer to this” he says out loud angrily, frustrated beyond ant-endurance.
The sound of his voice is reassuring. He shouts out “there’s no answer to that stupid effing question!” Something inside of him smiles and a little voice says quietly, kindly “Got that right, Jack. Let's hear it again, and put some real energy into it." Independent ant stamps his ant-feet and throws a real ant-tantrum, yelling and screaming to his heart's content.
"Wow!" he says to himself and the world at large,
"that felt good."
"The thing is," the voice inside him says "what's the point of imagining the worst? It makes you want to give up. So does not using your own ant-brain."
"The thing is," the voice inside him says "what's the point of imagining the worst? It makes you want to give up. So does not using your own ant-brain."
Ant sighs. "Yeah, I know. But I think there's a quantitative difference between being depressed and dead. I'd rather live a frustrated life than completely die thank you very much."
"Well, you're here now so use hat imagination of yours to keep you buoyant. Don’t use it to
condemn yourself to death so you're so depressed you don't even try to find a way out. How pointless is that?”
It makes sense to independent ant. He looks around. It is pretty beautiful. And it is good to be alive. And regret is a giant waste of ant-time. And I've got supplies for three days. Maybe next time I'll plan it better." He marches on resolutely, taking note of the sun so he doesn't walk round in circles. "Anyway," he mutters, "imagine my regrets if I'd gone with the others but they crushed me out so I died of starvation anyway? How awful would that be? Yeah!"
Years later, a young independent-minded ant slightly nervous about the world, conflicted about going his own way, wanting to, needing to, but a little scared to take the risk, strolls past an ant-graveyard. Something makes him go in and look around. He finds an ant-tombstone with the inscription “He lived the way he needed to and when that meant crossing the desert he did it, and got to the other side."
An ant-voice just behind him says “That was my grandfather.”
The young ant turns to see a young ant-girl standing with a bunch of ant-flowers. She puts them down. "He always told me that he had two big regrets. He said didn't plan as well as he might have... She pauses.
It makes sense to independent ant. He looks around. It is pretty beautiful. And it is good to be alive. And regret is a giant waste of ant-time. And I've got supplies for three days. Maybe next time I'll plan it better." He marches on resolutely, taking note of the sun so he doesn't walk round in circles. "Anyway," he mutters, "imagine my regrets if I'd gone with the others but they crushed me out so I died of starvation anyway? How awful would that be? Yeah!"
Years later, a young independent-minded ant slightly nervous about the world, conflicted about going his own way, wanting to, needing to, but a little scared to take the risk, strolls past an ant-graveyard. Something makes him go in and look around. He finds an ant-tombstone with the inscription “He lived the way he needed to and when that meant crossing the desert he did it, and got to the other side."
An ant-voice just behind him says “That was my grandfather.”
The young ant turns to see a young ant-girl standing with a bunch of ant-flowers. She puts them down. "He always told me that he had two big regrets. He said didn't plan as well as he might have... She pauses.
"What?" says young independent ant reluctantly, not wanting to hear her say that he wished he'd gone with the crowd or something.
"He said that on the way he met a ant who was going with the crowd and mocked him for thinking he knew better, but there was something about him, something that made my grandfather think he was different, too. He got to the other side, but he couldn't forget the other ant, so he went looking for him. Never found him. It always bothered him."
Independent ant stares at her. "That was my grandfather. He always wondered what happened to that independent ant, always admired him, always hoped he made it." He puts his arm around her. "Nice to meet you."
She laughs. "You thinking of crossing the desert?"
"Mm-hm. And you?"
"How about we do it together," ant-girl said. "My grandfather drew maps from memory."
Independent ant laughs. "Of course he did. Mine too. Yeah. Let's do it."
Call me a romantic.