I began my run today in an angry, unhappy mood. It seems that as I move closer to my mid 40’s, this happens more and more. I don’t doubt the inevitability of menopause or drastic mood swings, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Nor does it mean I will necessarily glide through with grace or poise. In fact, I’m pretty certain I’m going to have moments where I’m the exact person I wrote about in my last “blog” (if you can call two sentences blasting the human race a “blog posting”).
I made a major discover today regarding the future: I want to be a Hero Snail.
It rained last night; a heavy, windy, violent rain that woke me from a dead sleep. As I looked outside, I imagined every single deck cushion flying into the woods. So many things happen in nature after a heavy rain like this. As humans, we simply don’t have the time or imagination to explore it. Running on a cement path the morning after just such a rain gives a person ample opportunity to see nature in all her majesty and me, in particular, a reason to get off my pre-middle aged angry pot.
The first one I noticed seemed to be a small clot of dirt. The next few I thought were small berry-like things. Then I noticed slight movement….and then a thin wet trail. They were snails, hundreds of them. They weren’t in a pack, although I never really thought about whether or not snails were “pack” animals (would you even classify them as animals? Really?). Each snail was heading across the cement, on his own path. None of the paths were absolutely clear although you could tell by the wet trail the direction the snails were moving. There were places where it appeared they would stop and then veer a certain way, then stop….you get the idea.
They were slow too. So slow that at one point, feeling bad for a rather large one, I found myself turning back so I could pick him up and move him to the edge. He just continued his slow slide as I ran on down the path.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: I’m a snail. I think we probably all are. As we slowly move along the path of our lives, it is impossible to see very far ahead. These snails have no idea what is at the end of the pavement. They also have no idea what the path they’ve left behind them looks like or who might run over the wet ribbon. What we’ve done, where we’ve gone, it’s all like that trail behind the snail. Humans can never have full knowledge of what we’ve left in our wake, whether it is something we randomly said to someone or some act we’ve committed. And here’s the thing. The snail doesn’t mean for its path to BE what it is. The snail is simply moving forward because it must. Sometimes we do or say things with no awareness or intent for who or what might be impacted or how.
There is a difference, though. Humans have the capacity to understand that there really are some things we do that can and will affect others. We can’t carry the burden of always making the right choices. By the same token, we should carry the burden of trying our best to treat people and things with respect so that our trail isn’t littered with regret.
So there I was, running along while psychoanalyzing the snails and feeling like a light bulb had gone off in my brain when I had to make a decision. At the end of the path, I could go into the end of a cul-de-sac and make a loop or I could cheat and turn around immediately. I chose the loop.
Because of this one choice, I became the benefactress of a young child’s “snail trail”. At the end of a driveway, a 3-4 year old boy was in his own absolutely beautiful and magical world. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweats but tied around his neck was a magnificent silver cape. He was fighting fiercely, as only a Superman or Batman could, and driving the villains off his drive.
The little boy did not see me at first and I was blessed to watch him, uninterrupted, as he slashed back and forth, ducked and dodged his opponents. I swear, in those moments, I could SEE the Joker battling him. My little Super Hero would not be deterred, though, and in a final driving push the Joker was defeated and left in a crumpled pile at the foot of the driveway.
It was then that the Hero noticed a strange old woman with a dog on a leash staring at him with a massive smile on her face and he turned quickly, running into the house, to the safety of his mother or father. Yes, I’m pretty certain a 4 year old boy would consider a 43 year old woman “old”!
It all came together in that moment. The snail’s plodding journey….our own, however life leads….a child’s imagination…..and the joy it gave me, having stumbled upon the thread of this Super Hero’s battle. He will never know how much happiness he gave a stranger in those few moments and I will never know his name. We impact each other, whether we like it or not. How we impact each other, however, is the true lesson in all this.
I was angry this morning and almost didn’t run. By choosing nature and activity, I was reminded that we have no choice but to move through life, one way or another. The path we leave is something that will impact our fellow humans whether we want it to or not. My message today, for myself, is to try to treat people with more respect and kindness and to always remember that somebody, somewhere, is watching.
What kind of trail do you want to leave?
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