the lacewing

In the bathroom in my office lives a little lacewing. I noticed her yesterday when she was looking rather healthy. I initially hassled her a little and tested her strength directing the hand dryer nozzle straight at her from a little distance to see if i could get her to fly off the wall but she staunchly clung to the tiles in spite of her wings trembling in the hot air flow. So i left filled with respect for the winner of our little game. Throughout the day, whenever i was in the bathroom, i'd keep checking where she was at, she was constantly switching position, facing the wall one time and the middle of the room another, sometimes near the ceiling, other times closer to us floor-walkers.

Today i found her there again but this time she wasn't looking very fresh at all. She didn't switch position at all. All day she kept her spot high up in the corner near the ceiling with her face stuck in the corner. I felt very sorry for her, such a short life spent locked in an office bathroom. I would have liked to try and get her out of there but i doubt i would have managed to do much good as i'm very clumsy around insects.

As i looked at her in her little corner, i remembered writing yesterday "i sit in my corner feeling miserable" and my sense of kinship with her grew stronger.

I too, sometimes, feel like that little lacewing: small and powerless, isolated, unable to communicate, locked in without a way out and incapable of breaking out of my circle of ever deepening immobility. And, like her, i feel like i might as well be staring at a blank wall for endless hours because i've lost the will and the energy to do anything else.

Our lives are like this sometimes, we cross many other lives but we are ultimately our own body and our own self. Our body is in itself a barrier that prevents us from ever truly knowing what life's like inside the person sitting next to us. So we touch and we affect each other, leave a footprint on someone else's lawn but the whole thing boils down to its characteristic and intrinsic loneliness.

Now you've guessed it. i haven't heard from my Master yet.