Life as a Beetle

As I sat reading on the bench I heard a thud to one side of me. I turned and saw a large beetle that had fallen off the deck and was now lying on its back, in the sunlight, its gross body twisting this way and that as its legs worked the air, searching for some kind of leverage. After a moment of observation, I offered my finger and the insect managed to right itself. Now its black, chitinous plating was revealed and the beetle continued along on its merry way, dark armor gleaming dully in the changing light.

Soon it reached another step and, again, fell onto its back. This time a twig was nearby and the beetle managed to avoid another potentially deadly mistake on its own. I wondered if the dark globes that were eyes and the "F" shaped antennae mounted on its head were of any use to the creature. All its movements were clumsy as it continued to stumble over the uneven surface and bump its head into various obstacles. It undoubtedly had no clue that it was completely exposed and that at any moment a bird or some other larger creature could descend upon it and end its meager life. In fact, it was probably due to my nearby presence that such an event did not occur. I then had to wonder why the beetle had chosen its particular course. Was there a scent it was trailing, or maybe a home it were returning to like an ant to its mound? Or maybe it was none of the above. Perhaps it was blind even to its own purposes? Maybe there was no choice of course, and the beetle was simply drawn by some magentic force its antennae were sensitive to.

At any length, I turned back to my book. I maybe read a sentence before a thought interrupted me. How similar am I, or the entire human race for that matter, to this beetle? Is our idea of choice and free will merely a result of our own supposed importance? Maybe we all have an antennae buried in our brains that draws us through life and is always subject to some unseen force. I suppose this is what some might call fate, or others God. How likely is that there is a reality all around us that we are as prone to understand as that beetle is to understand human politics or religion?

Reminded of the beetle, I turned back to where it had been. It was gone. My moment of reverie had lasted maybe a couple seconds, and the path the beetle was following should have placed it still within my field of vision. Had something caught it? Had it fallen into a crack between the bricks? Perhaps, or maybe its path just wasn't so straight, so predictable. I am also led to apply a facet of this experience to the idea of security so many people believe they have. This beetle was covered in armored plating, was large for an insect, and had mandibles big enough to intimidate just about anyone. The thing was a miniature tank. Yet the trees were full of birds and there were lizards around that deck that could, in a blink, destroy it with no problem. Point: there is no such thing as security. I know this is something everyone agrees with, yet how often do we sacrifice relationships for that career we think will hold us above any type of flood? How often do we label that trip to Asia, or that investment into a family member's business, or any other venture into the unknown as "too risky", not realizing that every day we step outside that door, every day we pull onto that freeway we are taking risks? So much of what we do is merely building walls with their foundations in the sand. Remind anyone else of one of Jesus' parables?

To conclude, I would like to summarize with a succinct and elegantly stated quote from Al Pacino's character in the movie Heat: "You can get killed walking your doggie!"