
This has been one of those weeks where ‘personal progress’ (defined by each of us in our own way) seemed to move at a snail’s pace, as they say. In case I seem to suggest that a very slow rate of headway is somehow less-than-desirable, let me hasten to add that I admire the determination of every snail I’ve ever met. Last week, early one morning after a wet & windy night, I encountered two individuals on the path to Ballston Beach whose steady forward motion entranced me. First there was the one shown below, that appeared intent on crossing from one side of the path to the other, leaving behind a fairly straight trail, thick and sticky. Notice its two ‘horns’ trembling in the wind. I wondered if that possibly made forward movement even slower:
A few feet further on I came upon this one:
The looping trail left by this snail intrigued me. Was it unsure of its true goal? Lacking a sense of direction? Practicing a secret art form of its own devising?
In any case, I took it as a suggestion that we all have our own destinations and ways of getting there, and that speed isn’t the point. With that, I’m now going to leave the blank page that’s been staring at me all week, and go take a leisurely post-rain stroll myself.
O snail
Climb Mount Fuji,
But slowly, slowly!
- Kobayashi Issa
Every wild creature has something to teach us! We just have to watch and listen.
Mornin' Clyde,
The ending to your snail piece has clung to me since I read it, "we all have our own destinations and ways of getting there, and that speed isn’t the point". So well articulated.
Thank you - Chris