The Importance of an Ant

 

Vinod Rao

 

 

            I gaze carefully.  My little red friend scrambles across my keyboard.  Amazing, all those limbs and joints bending and stretching in a rhythmic fluidity, tiny feelers waving excitedly.  He approaches a friend, and they tap each other in friendly camradrie, perhaps even love.  He waves in understanding and he is off again, this time swiftly scampering toward the Collegiate Coupon book sitting on my desk.  He surges upwards a few millimeters and slips into the crack between the pages.  

 

Okay.  So my desk isn’t exactly Walden Pond.  The last time I saw leaves change color in here was when my plant died last year.  And there certainly are no long lines of wisdom-seekers at my door searching for inspiration.  But the ants don’t care.  They simply go about their business, whatever it may be. 

 

I used to think their existence was pointless.  Now I know it is.  They spend their lives migrating from the radiator to my computer and back.  I have no idea what they could possibly eat in my room, unless they somehow discovered how to eat through the canned kidney beans or the dried pasta stored under my bed.  Even their movements have no purpose.  I watch in stupefaction as they turn around at least ten times while traveling a mere six inches.  Maybe the most pitiful thing is that the ants have no individual identity.  “Oh, that ant!  The red one with the three body segments and the six legs.  The one that likes to scurry.  Why didn’t you say so?” 

 

Have you ever seen an ant smile?  Have you swapped stories with an ant over a warm cup of cocoa?  Do the ants that live by the Great Pyramids or by the Taj Mahal appreciate these wondrous monuments?  Do they feel sympathy for the victims at the World Trade Center?  No.  My little friends just continue to walk around aimlessly.  They are born in obscurity and they die in obscurity. 

 

            Unlike ants, humanity has achieved greatness.  We marvel at the intellect of Leonardo da Vinci or the musical genius of Beethoven.  Humanity honors mighty warriors like Genghis Khan and peaceful pillars of morality like Mahatma Gandhi.   We have constructed such wonders as the Great Sphinx at Gaza, the city of Macchu Picchu, and the Great Wall of China.  We have trod upon the very moon that inspires poets and lovers.  And indeed, we fall in love and we fall in hate.  We have grieved most deeply for our lost ones.  Our lives are far from pointless; we live in greatness and we die in greatness.

 

            My friends ask me how I can stand the ants.  These vermin are everywhere.  On my homework, on my computer, on my bed, on the outside of those cans of kidney beans.  There is even a little family of ants living in my rice in the kitchen.  People tell me to fumigate my room, or at least use ant traps.  “They might bite you while you sleep,” my fellow humans argue.  “And so what if you kill them?  They probably do not even feel pain.”  However, I don’t see why they need to die.  I understand that it is considered unsanitary to have ants crawling around your room, but I cannot honestly think of any harm they have actually done to me.  Playing with my computer?  My machine is so old the ants can only help it run.  Infest my rice?  I just carefully pick out the ants and toss them in the trash.  There’s more than enough food for them to eat there, and I can just wash my rice a few extra times.  Crawl on my covers?  Well, I’ve never awakened because of an ant snacking upon my flesh, so I suppose there is no harm. 

 

I am beginning to think that my fellow humans suffer from xenophobia.  Maybe people subconsciously fear and hate these little creatures only because they are foreign to us.  Most people see no reason to respect such a miniscule existence.  As evidenced by recent persecutions of Arab-Americans in this country, humans often do not live up to their ideals of diversity and open-mindedness.  Besides, nobody every coos over how cute ants are.  Nonetheless, the ants simply march onwards. 

 

In truth, there is something very inspiring about these ants.  Their response to any situation is one of two options: walk on or die.  It is that simple.  The ants demonstrate an unshakeable devotion to their simplicity.  They do not let petty distractions or attachments interfere with their walking.  If presented with an obstacle, the ants will either try to feel an easy path around it, or simply turn around.  But by constantly walking, the lowly ant transcends the vice-like grip of time. 

 

People, on the other hand, are the tumbleweeds blowing in the winds of circumstance.  Unlike the ants, we react to our environment rather than command it.  When our loved ones die, we grieve – though not by choice.  When we are praised by our superiors, we feel good – again, not by choice.  Who demonstrates the greater strength of character – the man who kills the murderer of his wife in a fit of rage, or the man who shows mercy to the murderer?  Certainly, a powerful deed can be accomplished when yielding to the blind fires of passion, but a morally justifiable action demands a careful consideration of the consequences.  Unfortunately, many of our deeds are reflex reactions to our changing world, whereas ants do not seem capable of submitting to passion.  In that sense, one might say that humans are the slaves and ants are the masters.

 

This line of reasoning begs the deeper question: what is the difference, ultimately, between an ant and a human?  In a very simplistic sense, ants and humans lead the same lives in that we are born, we grow, and we die.  All other considerations, such as humanity’s ability to create or its desire for freedom, are secondary to this universal impermanence.  Our difference may be one of scale, not substance.  Humans are larger, live longer, and are more intelligent than ants.  Then again, have you ever seen an ant suffer?  Have you ever heard an ant whimper sadly after its sibling had been thoughtless flattened by an irreverent passer-by?  No.  Again, they simply walk on.  Many would argue that such an existence is no better than being a rock – insensitive to the world around you.  However, Buddhists might liken it more to a state of Enlightenment.  Humans, on the other hand, exult in our pleasure and bemoan our pain.  This leads to an oscillation between fleeting moments of joy and suffering. 

 

Then, in the final count, which philosophy should we choose?  The stoic detachment of the ant or the transient emotions of the human?  In truth, probably some combination of both.  Perhaps the happy medium for humankind is like a marsh reed – able to bend in response to the winds of circumstance and relate to the human experience, but grounded in the understanding of our fundamental impermanence.  Both the ants and we humans have more work to do before we resonate in harmony with our existence.

 

So what does this mean for those gentle little friends with whom I coexist?  We will continue to live together.  They will continue to scurry, and I will continue to work, sleep, and disappear.  I ignore any complaints of my human neighbors and live amiably with my roommates.  I realize that we have still more lessons to teach each other if we would be wise enough to listen.