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(This was my second essay for my college Comp 1 course. I think I went outside the parameters of the assignment and a little off the deep end. I was supposed to write a simple comparative essay.)
Scheer 1
John F. Scheer
Amy Handy
English 1301
June 22, 2010
Squirrels vs. Lobsters
Today we are looking at whether to befriend squirrels or lobsters. Or to put it differently; whether to befriend people who are Squirrel-ish vs. people who are Lobster-ish. While academics demand clear and concise arguments, they still need to be entertained once and a while. Hopefully this essay accomplishes both. I am using allegory to express my points and by the end you will know who is more amiable, a squirrel or a lobster.
Squirrels are well adjusted and sincere, that’s why they make better friends than lobsters. Squirrels sacrifice their own pride and are willing to laugh at themselves just a bit, they quickly find themselves surrounded by people that love and care for them and their “abnormalities.” Lobsters say they want friendship but never follow through on doing the work. They have greater difficulty building solid lasting relationships. They struggle with letting go of all the fears of what they might loose or what the other will think once that person really gets to know you.
Being a lobster, I can tell you without a doubt that squirrels make better friends. When a lobster invites you over for dinner the first thing you smell is the ocean, salt water brine and rotting organic matter from various flora and fauna. You glance around nervously looking for where you should sit, but all you can see are a couple of rocks and a bed of seaweed scattered about. Not to mention the temperature, how could anyone but a lobster be comfortable in those arctic depths? The lobster stares at you blankly like a deer in the headlights, opens his mouth slightly as if to say something to put you at ease but quickly shuts it again and looks awkwardly at the sandy floor. You clear your throat and lean in for an awkward hug but the lobster shies away either because he’s cold blooded or he’s afraid of accidentally pinching you. You then force yourself to say, “Sooo, what’s for dinner?”
Being a scavenger, the lobster nods with an uncomfortable sideways glance to the cornucopia of rotting carrion and ocean plants.
“Oh, uh help yourself,” he says. You then try and fake an emergency phone call from your niece about your brother being in a car accident, but in mid farce you and your crustaceous comrade simultaneously realize that there is no cell phone reception on the bottom of the ocean. Your four eyes lock and the intolerable awkwardness continues.
What happens when you meet the lobster at the park while you are both walking your pets? As you see him approaching, you franticly look for an escape. You look to the left and right of the trail, but there are little signs that say, “Please don’t walk on the grass.”
“They’re just signs!” You think. But suddenly the gardener is squatting there and looking straight at you as if to say, “Don’t even think about it bubba.” You glance down the path again. Seeing the lobster coming closer and closer, the knot in your throat growing bigger and bigger, the cold lines of sweat run faster and faster down your body. You swallow the unbearable knot in your throat and look for a distraction. Luckily, George, your dog, starts relieving himself on the trail. This was probably the first time you ever actually looked forward to picking up after your dog. While bagging the waste, the lobster walks up behind you, clears his throat and says, “Hey what are you up to?”
You take a long pause and just before it begins to seem like you’re ignoring him you whip around and say, “Just walking my dog. What about you?” His antennas spell out the word, I-N-C-R-E-D-U-L-O-U-S.
“I’m walking my krill,” he responds. Then you notice the seemingly empty fish bowl in his claw and, as if reading your mind, he says, “Yeah, they’re pretty small animals.” Trying to move on you start talking about the gulf oil spill, gesturing with your arms out of nervous compulsion, flailing them about in flamboyant fashion to signify that you are feeling completely calm and comfortable with this meeting, but are still disgusted with the tragedy. Mid flail the doggy bag breaks, its contents make a slow motion arc through the air and land directly at the shoes of the intolerable gardener. But instead of laughing and making a joke out of it like a squirrel might do, the lobster just stands there with his eyes bugging out of his shell and his hind left leg nervously ticking on the gravel. Where’s a squirrel when you need one?
Or what about when you find yourself volunteering at the soup kitchen, standing elbow to claw with this decadent decapod? You try and keep your own eyes focused on portion control, line speed and making polite small talk with the food recipients. This is so that you don’t seem haughty. You can’t help noticing out of the corner of your eye, the lobster’s eyes are fixated on the soup; his mouth keeps smacking as if from over salivation. He is handing out considerably smaller and smaller portions of food than anyone else; no doubt he is hoping for leftovers. The food recipient’s eyes keep glazing over as they pass the lobster’s food station. They keep unconsciously licking their lips, not while staring at the soup, but while staring at the lobster. They envision him on a platter or sitting in the soup bowl instead of serving it. The lobster keeps taking “smoke” breaks because he says that all the staring is making him anxious. Though, you know he’s going into the kitchen to check for leftovers or rooting around the dumpster for a tasty treat. All the other volunteers keep giving each other knowing glances whenever anyone asks “Have you seen lobster around?” But no one is willing to call him out on his un-philanthropic behavior. Being good idealists they just believe that Karma will get him in the end. Being a lobster, no doubt it will.
A squirrel on the other hand is a horse of a different color. After a long hard day of making coffee seem interesting, and your own personality warm and inviting, you walk to your door stoop. The squirrel pops his head out and hollers down in a tone, cheerful, yet relaxed for a squirrel, “ `Ello guvna! `Ow about after you get settled in, you come up for a wee bit o’ herbal tea?” You detect no presumption or expectation in his voice, just wanting a bit for some company. So you tell him, yes, you’d be delighted. Now after a quick refresh and change of clothes, you go ahead and put yourself up in the cozy doorway of the squirrel drey, which resides in the tree above your house.
The sun is setting and you can still feel a hint of warmth from it as a gentle breeze caresses your nostrils with a hint of apples and cinnamon from the squirrel’s warmly lit home. Before you’re able to knock on the door, he opens, almost bowls you over with a satchel of leftovers for the birds, and is surprised to see you standing there. “Oh pardon me chap!” He exclaims with a smile, not a hint of awkward reservation in his voice. If this were lobster’s house though you might be thinking that he was standing there behind the door peeping and waiting with a trash bag to make it seem as though he were just on his way out. But this thought quickly fades as the sweet smell of herbs de provance fills your head and the gentle rumble of a stew invades your ears. He invites you in and immediately you notice how comfortable yet not overwhelmingly tidy the little drey appears. The squirrel invites you out onto his deck. He quickly scurries back in and returns with a tray of steaming acorn and vegetable stew and two cups of cinnamon apple spice tea. You thought you were full from the three black bean tacos you picked up earlier, but somehow the aroma of the stew and tea make you realize you’re hungry again. After a light meal and hearty conversation, you give the tell tale grunts and sighs that say, “I enjoyed myself thoroughly, but it’s time to go.”
“Well I better not keep you up too late since you’ve got an early morning ahead of you,” says the squirrel. You and the squirrel say “tatah” and you both retire for a satisfied slumber.
If you were locked up in your home all day writing an essay about squirrels vs. lobsters, who would you ask to meet up for coffee, a brisk walk and some nutty conversation to clear your head? A squirrel perhaps could pull it off. You are walking down Main Street to the coffee shop and just before you get to the door you feel your back pocket and realize with chagrin, you left your wallet sitting on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. You even put it there so you wouldn’t forget it on accident and cause an embarrassing situation with the squirrel. But now not wanting to make the squirrel wait, you decide to pretend that you already had coffee at home and didn’t want anything anyway.
The bell chimes as you walk in and so does the squirrel’s grin as he gets up from the table. You both embrace for a tasteful “manly” hug. “What are getting today?” He asks.
“Oh I had some coffee this morning. I’m good.” You respond.
“Oh bollocks, I got your tab. I’m certainly not gonna sit here drinking coffee alone.” Says the squirrel. You give a sheepish smile and order. The squirrel elbows you in the ribs and says, “I bet you left your wallet on the banister at the bottom of the stair.” You both bust up laughing because you know it’s true and he’s just that kind of friend, that knows your quirks and that just makes him like you more.
When you feel inspired to do something positive for the community, who would you invite to plant trees on Arbor Day, a lobster or a squirrel? Squirrels are naturally community oriented and spiritual. A squirrel scurries around hiding acorns, then forgetting where he put them, looks for another and forgets where that one was planted and the cycle continues. Before you know it, the squirrel has planted an entire forest out of pure forgetfulness and nonattachment to worldly possessions. Century after century, as those acorns grow into towering oak trees, the squirrel has built hundreds of squirrel homes for future squirrel generations. On top of that, these are “green” homes that repair the ozone layer and give us the air we breathe. How could you ask for more from a squirrel?
A squirrel, always forgetting where he buried his acorns, may have a little short term memory loss. He may even have some ADD, jumping from branch to branch in search of another acorn, but surely you can see these don’t detract from a meaningful friendship between you and him? So I ask you who of these two creatures would you prefer to call “friend”? I know for me, claws down, squirrels make better friends.
Thank you very much.
“This was from me” is a famous letter written by saint Seraphim of Viritsa that he sent to his spiritual child, a bishop who was in a Soviet prison at that time; this homily “This was from me” is written as a consolation and counsel to the bishop to let him know that God the Creator addresses to the soul of man.
- Have you ever thought that everything that concerns you, concerns Me, also? You are precious in my eyes and I love you; for this reason, it is a special joy for Me to train you. When temptations and the opponent [the Evil One] come upon you like a river, I want you to know that This was from Me.
- I want you to know that your weakness has need of My strength, and your safety lies in allowing Me to protect you. I want you to know that when you are in difficult conditions, among people who do not understand you, and cast you away, This was from Me.
- I am your God, the circumstances of your life are in My hands; you did not end up in your position by chance; this is precisely the position I have appointed for you. Weren’t you asking Me to teach you humility? And there – I placed you precisely in the “school” where they teach this lesson. Your environment, and those who are around you, are performing My will. Do you have financial difficulties and can just barely survive? Know that This was from Me.
- I want you to know that I dispose of your money, so take refuge in Me and depend upon Me. I want you to know that My storehouses are inexhaustible, and I am faithful in My promises. Let it never happen that they tell you in your need, “Do not believe in your Lord and God.” Have you ever spent the night in suffering? Are you separated from your relatives, from those you love? I allowed this that you would turn to Me, and in Me find consolation and comfort. Did your friend or someone to whom you opened your heart, deceive you? This was from Me.
- I allowed this frustration to touch you so that you would learn that your best friend is the Lord. I want you to bring everything to Me and tell Me everything. Did someone slander you? Leave it to Me; be attached to Me so that you can hide from the “contradiction of the nations.” I will make your righteousness shine like light and your life like midday noon. Your plans were destroyed? Your soul yielded and you are exhausted? This was from Me.
- You made plans and have your own goals; you brought them to Me to bless them. But I want you to leave it all to Me, to direct and guide the circumstances of your life by My hand, because you are the orphan, not the protagonist. Unexpected failures found you and despair overcame your heart, but know That this was from Me.
- With tiredness and anxiety I am testing how strong your faith is in My promises and your boldness in prayer for your relatives. Why is it not you who entrusted their cares to My providential love? You must leave them to the protection of My All Pure Mother. Serious illness found you, which may be healed or may be incurable, and has nailed you to your bed. This was from Me.
- Because I want you to know Me more deeply, through physical ailment, do not murmur against this trial I have sent you. And do not try to understand My plans for the salvation of people’s souls, but unmurmuringly and humbly bow your head before My goodness. You were dreaming about doing something special for Me and, instead of doing it, you fell into a bed of pain. This was from Me.
- Because then you were sunk in your own works and plans and I wouldn’t have been able to draw your thoughts to Me. But I want to teach you the most deep thoughts and My lessons, so that you may serve Me. I want to teach you that you are nothing without Me. Some of my best children are those who, cut off from an active life, learn to use the weapon of ceaseless prayer. You were called unexpectedly to undertake a difficult and responsible position, supported by Me. I have given you these difficulties and as the Lord God I will bless all your works, in all your paths. In everything I, your Lord, will be your guide and teacher. Remember always that every difficulty you come across, every offensive word, every slander and criticism, every obstacle to your works, which could cause frustration and disappointment, This is from Me.
- Know and remember always, no matter where you are, That whatsoever hurts will be dulled as soon as you learn In all things, to look at Me. Everything has been sent to you by Me, for the perfection of your soul. All these things were from Me.
(a letter i never sent to a friend regarding the illness of my beloved.)
My Friend,
Just some thoughts on illness as I suffer with my beloved…
When an illness doesn’t have a name, most people don’t take you seriously. They may say they do or infer that they do. But the always goading judgment at the back of their mind is, “this person is making this up, they believe what they’re telling me, but its some form of mental illness… obviously.” I know this to be true because I myself have thought this of various people at various moments and know that I am not alone in my suspicions. Of course there is always a psychological aspect to all illness. We are all, in sickness and in health, holistic beings.
It is terrifying to find out that you have a particular illness. What is this foreign thing in my being that appears to be part of me yet I know is a trespasser? But ambiguity in illness is sometimes even more terrifying than knowing. When my body, heart, mind and soul are steadily eroding away, how do I find peace about something that is undefinable?
At first ambiguity is easier, because at the beginning you still have your egoic hope. You tell yourself that there’s a solution out there, that it’s just a matter of time and of finding it and surly it can’t be that hard. But after a while, after a few spins around the merry-go-round of chronic illness, the inspiration of hope erodes into “trying”, which in turn erodes into despair and just waiting on the sinking raft of your identity amidst the deep dark ocean of “the ambiguous illness.” In ambiguity there’s no identity to latch onto, infuse yourself with, no cloak of self-righteous suffering to mask your self loathing and fears of loosing self. There’s no flag you can wave and no cause to claim fealty to, just suffering, fear and death to an nameless, faceless, unknowable enemy.
I’ve noticed how sick and suffering and “well” people crave an identity to claim. Even if it’s killing them or destroying their spirit. They are terrified of healing, because healing can be a kind of death unto itself. It may be more terrifying to be without identity than it is to be ill.
But that’s what everyone wants no matter whether you’re sick or well, people want Identity. I want identity. That’s why i have struggled so much with the identity of my faith. Without divine hope, ambiguity = anxiety. If you have identity and definition you are “safe”. If you can define your own image there is a sense of safety in that. This occurs in other arenas of life, not just suffering. Anything I do that can be traced back to “self-image” is really a fain attempt at finding identity.
I think this comes from an existential desire for one’s true identity which can only be found in the undefinable, unidentifiable, unimaginable infinity of the anti-identity of God. (From an apophatic point of view.) While it is true that God identifies himself and exists as the Trinity, there is the unlimited existence of God that far exceeds those human notions ideas, and relationships. Seemingly it is to this that the deepest part of the human soul constantly flies to and yearns toward. If you want to save your life you must first loose it. If you want to find your identity you must first loose it. May God find all of His lost, myself included.
God’s peace,
john
… that my reoccurring top post is “to tattoo or not to tattoo”. out of all my other “soul searching” posts the one post that comes up as most viewed is this. it’s ironic. what’s so important about tattooing? it’s permanent definitely, but besides that. definition of identity… in the ambiguity of identity lives anxiety. so then is it just to make me feel better about myself, feel secure? to say “this is who/what i am.” to quite literally wear my self on my sleeves. not trying to sound aloof or arrogant since someday i might get a tattoo. just wondering out loud…
After watching an Indian film (called, ‘Water’) about Hindu widows, my heart got to thinking and asking…
“
“What if your conscience conflicts with your faith?”
–quote from ‘Water’“I used to think that God was Truth, but now I know that Truth is God.”
–Ghandi (paraphrased)
“
If one seeks truth above all else, does one find God? Not necessarily…? Then how does one find Truth? Purely by God’s grace. Purely by God’s predestined grace!
Abraham was a righteous man. God loved and blessed him for his righteousness. How did Abraham find righteousness outside of ‘religion’? (The same goes for Buddha.) Why does everyone after him need religion to find righteousness? (what about relationship?) Is it about a guarantee or a ‘get out of jail free card’ or a ‘life insurance policy’? What does Jesus say about righteousness in the context of his cultural Judaism and outside that same context? Can we trust the ‘Christian Gospels’?
Legalism is bullshit, a mockery of the Truth and the Law. A mockery of the Heart. But what of purity? Is righteousness found in one Man? In returning to the purity of God’s creation that He called ‘Good’? In the many idols of mankind? Or in the act of TRYING?? Is it found in the depths of the longing of the Heart of Hearts? Is Righteousness found in the Heart? Can God put it there to be found if He so pleases? Does He do so in everyone? Where is righteousness to be found? How is righteousness to be found?
Questions are not a sign of doubt.
Doubt is not a lack of Faith.
Faith is not a sign of Truth.
Truth is not a lack of Questions.
…and the Dharma wheel turns…
Why do people seem to need a system to find God? Do people who search for God in a system really find Him?
Many people in the system will find God, Truth, Al-Haqq, but many may not. Many people outside the system will find God, Truth, Al-Haqq, but many may not. Are there no guarantees of God’s predestination to His Will? (this definitely isn’t a path for discipleship)
I feel like a spiritual or religious outcast. An untouchable. Caught between systems. I cling ever so tightly to the Lord of Outcasts and Untouchables, Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Son of God and Man.
Arthur held the vile meticulously in his hand. The waters of the tiny world trembled in his grip. He imagined a microscopic version of himself doing a cannon-ball into this little ocean.
His mind wandered past all of the cataclysmic events of the last few days and weeks and years that had led up to this point in time, the point in time where Arthur Holt was grasping the last 4 ounces of water on earth. The chemical’s new found singularity struck him strange, for prior to this moment, water had been the most common, elemental, forgotten and taken for granted substance known to man. Even if he was completely parched, he knew that somewhere, no matter how inaccessible it might be, there was water. But now… this was not even the case.
Now Arthur really held the last drop of water in his fingers. He wondered what it would feel like to drink the last 4 ounces of water, what emotions would rush through his veins, what thoughts of despair or ecstasy would swim around his head. This single water might be saved for later when truly needed at a cataclysmic moment of desperate rescue. It was a glistening potion of hope and despair, of comfort and anxiety, a monument to creation and a crumbled ruin of a reminder to the past.
How, Arthur wondered, how could this simple compound of Hydrogen and Oxygen contain so many paradoxes, enigmas and mysteries of the life it used to uphold. It held every question to every answer of earthly life. It was life itself. It told a story, not a human story, but a story of energy, power, creation, of god breathing life into a fiery, explosive element. The human element, they had exploded on the earth and scorched it beyond recognition ironically using the element of fire that when bonded with the breath of god created this basic building block of earthly life.
The vile, so precious and so endangered reminded him of the stories he read as a child where there was always a precious vile, singular in it’s ability and availability to offer its barer hope in darkness, healing at the last gasp of life and protection in the face of horror.
…………….
A man’s heart
Lies deep
Like a lake in his chest
Emotions Swim like fish or minnows
Rapid and Unknowing
Evading the Tongue
The Lady of the Lake calls out the Siren song
Hoping to draw in the catch
But she calls after a Phantom Menace
The elusive monster hides Himself in Myth and Mirth
She calls to the Deep
Longing for contact
Longing for the elusive Shadow
Called Man’s Emotion to
Reveal itself in untold
Spender and Majesty
She longs for Nothingness to show itself as Form
She longs to trap it in a cage of formalism
She longs for it’s death.
She Mourns,
She Mourns.
I am in my ashes,
I am in my ashes.
He says,
He says.
-jfs
scheer
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