Ant and the Universe

Once upon a time, there was a mostly happy ant who lived in a mostly happy sector of the universe.

The ant had everything it needed to live its happy little life – a home, plenty of sweets and other ants to love and be loved by.

Being a part of the universe was very important to this ant and more often than not, the ant felt very strong and capable to participate in all that needed to be done to keep the universe going.

There were moments though, when the ant’s faith faltered.  The ant seemed to get a glimpse outside of its universe to see the bigger universe in which it also lived.

That was scary for this little ant.  It made the ant want to huddle up within its home, hide all of its sweets and not let the other ants it loved and was loved by out of its sight.

That, of course, was not possible.  The ant had work to do to help keep its home and it had to share its sweets in order to continue receiving them.  The ant’s loved ones had their own lives, too, no matter how old they were or how much the ant loved them or they loved the ant.

The ant understood this in its head, but sometimes the ant’s feelers would get confused and the ant’s feelings would by-pass the head down to the very center of its trunk.  Then its trunk would begin to ache and try to send feelings back to its feelers for guidance.

The ant’s head would get in the way and not let the feelings out.  They would bottle up behind the ant’s eye and as a result, its pinchers would tighten and its claws would sharpen.  Tight pinchers and sharp claws made it difficult for the ant to work to keep its home, enjoy its sweets and even love and be loved.

This happened off and on for the ant over many years of living in its universe.  And being so small, a few days or hours could seem like a lifetime for this ant.  It was during these times the ant would get very lonely and wonder if it really belonged in its home or deserved its sweets.  The ant went so far as to question the love that was in its life.

But the ant was not able to express how lonely it got  and would only ask these questions inside, not to other ants.  For when the ant got so very lonely and felt so very small, its fear of not being happy at all anymore was stronger than its trust in the greater good of its life.

The ant would go to bed each night and try to remember all of the wonderfulness it had in its life and universe.  It would wake up each morning hoping to remember that its home was safe, its sweets were precious and its love divine.

Usually the universe helped the ant and gave tiny ant-sized signs to remind it that it was, is and always will be a most beloved and integral part of not only its universe but also the universe in which its universe lived.

And the one beyond that, too.

Warning – discombobulated post

There is nothing more important at this moment than sleep.

After not sleeping almost at all last night due to a late dosage of Allegra-D and a four-overtime win for the Dallas Stars, I can honestly think of nothing else but sleep.

I can barely type.

(I was able to stay awake through Dancing with the Stars – Go Christian! Way to dance through the pain!)*

Why bother to write a post at all, then? Why not only allow myself to just close my eyes and drop into unconsciousness and in the process not inflict my apparent lack of faculties onto you, my oh-so-new-readers?

Simple – two reasons: I made a promise to myself to attempt to write something every night in the hopes of building momentum and creating confidence in my commitment. And I have power in my voice which is, in this case, expressed digitally.

My power does not stop because no one reads it. My power is not weakened if it is barely, remotely related to a Pulitzer’s seventh cousin, eight times removed from my friend’s half-sister’s step uncle’s parakeet.

I have strength in power even when the only beneficiary is me.

I have power still even if it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

The sense is in the effort to remain a voice of power in any form available.

*Please note: this post contains a confession of a secret obsessive vice – DWTS. For future reference, all judgements against the author are respectfully requested to be given a bit of slack. It has been clinically proven that often we do not chose and cannot control that which we obsess over. Plus, I don’t have many vices left!