Patricia Wright
User
A Hatchling Earthworm
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Who's Rescuing Who? - 2007/06/19 21:21
Something to share with all of you. . .
I rescued an earthworm on Thursday morning on the way to the bus. It was dark against the cement, and skinny. A casual, almost overlooking glance would have pronounced it shriveled, crisp, gone. But I spied it squirming and bent down to investigate. Sure enough, it was still plump and viable, just a tiny dark variety. I promptly scooped it up and put it into the nearby dewy grass.
What immediately came to mind was the gift nature gave me about three days after my boyfriend and I split up in 2005. I was relatively settled about the whole thing, but still a bit numb. I headed out from the townhouse that morning, towards the community mailbox with a letter I had to post. On the way there, I spied another earthworm, in a bit of an almost dried up puddle. It was coated in sand and writhing around, clearly trapped and with no real future, with an energy of panic. The rest of the pavement was pretty much dry and the sunny day would take care of it easily.
I bent down and picked it up, and as I did, my knees buckled in grief. I brought it to the grass behind the community mailbox, fighting back the sobs, but broke down for a few cathartic minutes once I climbed into the RAV4 to head to work. It was a moment of true clarity. The worm, strangled in sand, coated in a foreign substance and unable to really move or maneuver, was such a mirror for me in that relationship that had previously ended. I had been stuck somewhere it did not fit and holding myself back in compensation.
That was all it took, really, was that little awakening. There were some details to resolve and the usual residue of resentments and regrets to allow to fall away, but I got so clear about my truth and how I had passively been allowing my light to be dimmed that I catapulted forward. I had fought pretty hard to maintain the commitment, such as it was, the last few months of my past relationship.
But I remembered that earthworm this morning, and the gift that it was. Even as I scooped this one up, the whole idea of karma and interference came into my mind, as it had in 2001. It?s a fine line, these things. There are karmic debts playing out everywhere .
There?s an arrogance to interference with ripening karma, but how are you supposed to know? Who?s to say that our karma, that of the worms and mine, was not meant to coincide, that exact moment for that exact purpose? Watching, keeping things suspended where we can be enriched and heralded by deeper meanings and timeless depth and mystery, versus nailing them to my wall like so much hunting trophies.
The worm quite naturally recoiled as soon as I touched it this morning. And the one in 2001 went into an absolute frenzy when I picked it up. Within its world, it could not know that my gentle intent was to get it to moisture as soon as I could, to bring relief. My heart gave a little amplified beat or two and I felt more gratitude when I released it into the grass than is really warranted in any human being over such a triviality. But such is the preciousness of life, all sentient beings. It is to be revered and safeguarded to the very best of our abilities.
Sometimes I think we are all those earthworms, squirming on the dry pavement, looking for the dark moist soil to soothe our skin.
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