A river of ants flow from the foundation of my home. They stream down the terrace on a single minded mission to multiply beneath a glorious seven foot rose bush.
These otherwise harmless creatures can wreak havoc. Their industry sucks the moisture from roots and mortar leaving dust in the wake.
Pour water down their exit hole to divert them and they disappear for awhile. You think they went somewhere else but suddenly they’re back at the same mission, the same route, to the same place. Maybe they were just “sheltering in place”.
Nature’s balance pushed to new limits, the creature Covid 19 found a ripe opportunity to devour the toxic, polluted, immune repressed, stressed human race.
It forced us back to our holes with a Tsunami rage. Without the insidious ravage of humans, the earth had taken a breath. We might have seen how quickly it seeks to repair. Dialed in to needs personal and present we haven’t had time to expand the view beyond that.
The threat of number 19 is now greater than when we feared a water boarding suffocation by leaving our confines. But the autocracy says, it’s time to get back out there. So we take the same path do the same thing in the same way as before. We call it normal. We call it freedom to get back to the routine, to the route. Cloaked in masks, slathered with Purell we’ll clog the highways, swarm the stores, erode the foundation, compromise the roots.
A different path to fulfill one’s destiny is right there.
But like the ants, we just do what we did before.
Don’t know why, guess you can ask the ants.