A little while ago, somebody in the Twitter world posted a few pictures of a baby sloth, along with some poetic, evocative turn-of-phrases that stayed with me. I wasn’t sure about posting the link for the photos, permission-wise, even though posting on Twitter is invariably public-access, I’m guessing (?).
Most of the stuff on Twitter I just like and move on–it’s pretty ephemeral in nature, even if it’s deep in nature, incredibly lovely photos of insects, birds or animals, or just plain fluff to look at while I have my morning tea and wait to wake up.
But those photos, poetics aside, reminded me that it is possible for humans and animals to have a deeper connection. The question that’s been on my mind is “Why not”. Why the encouraged distance between most humans and animals? I was thinking of this filmed bit of cows in a slaughterhouse–maybe it was courtesy of Morgan Spurlock…or PETA…can’t really remember the source, sorry, as I’ve seen so much of that sort of disturbing footage over the years as a vegetarian/animal rights advocate/volunteer that, terribly, I lose track. I just don’t understand how people can calmly stand by and not be affected by the very real trauma and fear cows for slaughter, or animals used in testing, and lots more examples, go through. It’s so evident. People are always saying that I’m just projecting, or being overly sensitive, or any of the 101 criticisms people like to say about me, but I still can’t imagine standing by and watching an animal suffer like that. To deliberately inflict pain. I would probably starve to death if I had to actually hunt my own food for survival, even though you never know what you would do to survive until you are actually placed into that situation. I’m a bit of a grumpy misanthrope a**kicker type in real life (or so people say, anyway) but I still can’t imagine the hate and invectives levelled at “the other” (people who aren’t like some imagined, fictional “ourselves”).
Arrgh, I’m not writing this very well. It’s just been an off week or two, what with all these strange dreams and the summer heat/blues and such.
I know that I rescued two spiders and an earwig of some kind out of my tub today. That I said good morning to my little spider buddy in the window when I got up, who was having a bit of breakfast, albeit somewhat gruesomely. I’ve spoiled my cat BFF, Cricket, even more this week (if that’s even possible).
But, I felt the usual twinges of guilt over having (organic, free-range, hormone free) cheese on my beans and toast, and honey in my tea. *wry laugh*
And I still wondered over the plague of humankind swarming over the earth, and the inevitable consequences of being human myself on this threatened, wonderfully diverse planet. And feeling that all my well-meaning actions were just tiny specks against a flood of destruction.
A crisis of faith/spirituality? Or just a midlife crisis? Or just a bout of the blues this week…I don’t know.
I still hope that love can win out over hate. That the world can be saved, with all its lovely plants, trees, flowers, insects, animals…diversity of life, essentially. But can it happen as long as humans live on the planet, too?
If Trump wins the election…well, I just don’t know. I would hate to assign any sort of impact that man can have on history and the course of the world, but…well, we all know what impact one person can make on history.
I know that those pictures of the baby sloth made me feel a bit of hope…because they just seemed to capture a poignant connection and communication made between human and animal (the words that went along with the photos really helped illustrate the photo, too). But maybe I’m just projecting. Or so my critics would say. But, as Fox Mulder would say: “I want to believe.”