Beyond the Mound

Rabbits playing and eating outside their burrow. Etching by W-S Howitt, ca 1798.

Beyond the Mound

The pendulum swings as it always has between the conservative and progressive forces of the universe.

Along a curve, rabbits will vary in the distance they travel from their burrow, proportional to the level of fear and risk that they can tolerate within themselves.

Some rabbits cling to the hole, halfway in and halfway out, just enough to scrounge up a portion of underbrush for the day so that they may again rinse and repeat the motion tommorow. They do this for good reason: that nature which feeds you simultaneously plays you as the feed for some other incarnation. Why risk the pain if you don’t have to?

On the other end of the spectrum lie the other minority. These are the wanderers, the courageous, or maybe and merely the wistful. Out there beyond the mound, often alone and often locked in the sights of nature’s drooling eyes they explore the unknown and the unspoken. “But perhaps I may find us a safer, more fitting shelter - maybe more food. How are we to move forward in this world if we fail to resurrect the order from the outskirts of our knowledge? Sure, we don’t know what’s out there but risk promises reward, not soley punishment.

Most are content in the middle ground, usually minding themselves and failing to see why the extremes of their stock venture to either border.

As dusk approaches, they all scurry back, at least most of them. They bicker and reproach each other over the decisions and lives they have all chosen to lead. The middle seeks rest, but the extremes toil over what is reasonable and what is not.

“Why risk such foolishness. We are content and fine where we are and we don’t want you reuining things for the rest of us…”

“Why risk such stagnancy? We can advance and find better opportunities elsewhere. Besides, sooner or later coyotes will find us where we lay and destroy what we have built anyhow.”

Both are correct and yet incomplete. The greatest failure is to miss the fact that both are needed if this project of theirs is to exist in the coming generations. Yes there must be movement, but move too fast and you risk the disolution of the entire endeavor.

This is the ebb and flow of nature. We must push our luck and venture to retrieve that which will build us up before the next wave crashes down upon us. This is the eternal story. Not an evil one and not a just one, but none the less the one we have.

In understanding these forces at play, the forces living through our finite lives, could we perhaps hold some compassion for eachother? “They” are needed as you are needed, and through a sincere recognition, we have a chance at striking the compromise that is the goldy locks zone.

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