Feature Article October 9, 2003
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Ambition
On these waning fall afternoons I am as ambitionless as it is possible to get. My biggest exertion seems to be keeping in the tree-dappled sunshine and to soak up as much of it as possible before the onslaught of winter dullness.
On a recent afternoon I was half reading and half dozing when my eye caught a movement on the house siding. A caterpillar was a couple feet above the patio and heading up at a great rate, but had many more feet to go before being frustrated by the roof overhang. His ambition put me to shame and I couldn't help but muse.
He was certainly determined with that climb ahead of him; did he not know his goal would lack a suitable nest in a sheltered tree fissure to pupate? Could he not feel the difference between slippery siding and the roughness of bark on his way to fulfilling his destiny of eventually getting off the ground and flying through the air? I watched him for another few feet before some unconscious notion or instinct alerted him that something was wrong; he turned around and started down. I observed him at eye level, decided he wasn't a gypsy moth caterpillar and by making a humane decision spared his life and was, in turn, rewarded; his fruitless climb had mentally awakened me.
Are we humans much different? How many impossible obstacles have we attempted to overcome without thought or help from our atrophied instincts; those that my little friend had eventually tapped into? Despite our advantage of being able to deliberate, make decisions and consider consequences far beyond that of my little caterpillar now heading across the decking towards a tree, do we take advantage of this gift to humans?
Unfortunately too often we don't!
There certainly is satisfaction of overcoming obstacles, of achieving the near impossible, of doing something few others can do or even attempt and of competing for top honours. It was drummed into me at an early age to be at the head of the herd, as the tail end is always dusty. Existing in the human herd is not that much different than being in an animal herd; all of us negotiate or fight for a comfortable and rewarding position. Only we have an extra gift beyond the basic instincts of maintaining a full stomach and propagating. We have the gift of thought that should keep us from climbing a barren wall, like my little friend now ambitiously exploring the bark of a tree.
We also have the gift of musing and I couldn't help trying to calculate the odds of my inspiring worm rejuvenating next spring as a colourful butterfly or moth and awaking another human gift, the appreciation of beauty.
