This is fascinating. And it's the most political I've seen you (that's a compliment, just so you're not left asking yourself what I mean). Such important stuff. Such weight and heft in the words.
Well, hmm... long felt best way to observe is up-close. We can begin to see differently. Also long thought love is bigger and "more" than we romantically think, as in lion to the wildebeest, "I love you so much, think I'm gonna eat you." Fair is fair, as love is love. Love includes teeth. No judgement meant, just what's so, like bees too. Interesting observation about our word-use, "queen." Then what about a recovering-drama-queen? Curious. Again, no judgement implied. I like how you use a shovel.
The wasp project isn't connected to the the recovering drama queen title. Just a coincidence. The substack is about acceptance instead of getting all worked up over things.
I'm not sure where you're going with this, but I'm more than willing to follow. And I'm already never going to look at a wasp in quite the same way again. I come from a similar family: "In my family fragments, the men come and go, and paternity is claimed, forgotten, and ultimately irrelevant. Dead, divorced, disappeared." Old as I am, as much as I've read, I thought we were an anomaly. These words made my breath catch.
Wow. Amazing stuff. Nature and insects are incredible, meaning, one must be incredulous on learning about them. No God could devise the process it takes for a monarch butterfly to emerge. Here's a poem of empathy for a wasp.
*****
Hornets in Early Winter
they land and stand unsteady
on flat things, like drunks on sidewalks
not quite sure why their legs betray them
or old men measuring the next step
with care. fly upward a short distance then
drop down again, defeated by confusion
bewildered the magic lift they’ve always
known and lived for has left, gone somewhere,
where they don’t know. that it’s gone, they do
scientists claim only humans foresee their
death but, being clinical in their assessments
analytical hearts can miss simpler truths
trapped now in a stumbling purposelessness
suffering through the long night’s cold
the hornet must intuit a finality coming
endless summer’s soft swaddling wind
driven away with exacting indifference
by the gods of winter practicing their blowing
the supple shell once daily warmed, now
creaks, and the inside flow of juices coalesce
into a merciless coldness as the season of living
slowly draws to an end. Can an ingenious insect
dying not parse the meaning? As it wobbles the
back porch rail I ask is it kinder to exact a swift ending,
I'm fascinated by wasps and love reading your thoughts about them. That was a potent dose of humility for our species!
Here's Proust comparing a clever head servant, who lays traps for other servants, with a certain clever species of wasp:
"There is a species of hymenoptera, observed by Fabre, the burrowing wasp, which in order to provide a supply of fresh meat for her offspring after her own decease, calls in the science of anatomy to amplify the resources of her instinctive cruelty, and, having made a collection of weevils and spiders, proceeds with marvelous knowledge and skill to pierce the nerve-centre on which their power of locomotion (but none of their other vital functions) depends, so that the paralysed insect, beside which her egg is laid, will furnish the larva, when it is hatched, with a tamed and inoffensive quarry, incapable either of flight or of resistance, but perfectly fresh for the larder."
I noticed a nest of paper wasps beginning to be shaped near the front door. Beautiful tubes of (what looks like) cardboard. I haven't had the nerve to attack it yet, but I may. Very topical essay today.
Thank you! (I have no idea why these comments are not threading like they should from my phone. Or how on earth I deleted yours!
This is fascinating. And it's the most political I've seen you (that's a compliment, just so you're not left asking yourself what I mean). Such important stuff. Such weight and heft in the words.
Your spoken word made me see it's really imperative to say it out loud (so to speak).
Good to know. 🙂
Well, hmm... long felt best way to observe is up-close. We can begin to see differently. Also long thought love is bigger and "more" than we romantically think, as in lion to the wildebeest, "I love you so much, think I'm gonna eat you." Fair is fair, as love is love. Love includes teeth. No judgement meant, just what's so, like bees too. Interesting observation about our word-use, "queen." Then what about a recovering-drama-queen? Curious. Again, no judgement implied. I like how you use a shovel.
shovel?
The wasp project isn't connected to the the recovering drama queen title. Just a coincidence. The substack is about acceptance instead of getting all worked up over things.
I'm not sure where you're going with this, but I'm more than willing to follow. And I'm already never going to look at a wasp in quite the same way again. I come from a similar family: "In my family fragments, the men come and go, and paternity is claimed, forgotten, and ultimately irrelevant. Dead, divorced, disappeared." Old as I am, as much as I've read, I thought we were an anomaly. These words made my breath catch.
Maybe we solitary wasps don't bump into each other often enough? Thank you for reading!
Wow. Amazing stuff. Nature and insects are incredible, meaning, one must be incredulous on learning about them. No God could devise the process it takes for a monarch butterfly to emerge. Here's a poem of empathy for a wasp.
*****
Hornets in Early Winter
they land and stand unsteady
on flat things, like drunks on sidewalks
not quite sure why their legs betray them
or old men measuring the next step
with care. fly upward a short distance then
drop down again, defeated by confusion
bewildered the magic lift they’ve always
known and lived for has left, gone somewhere,
where they don’t know. that it’s gone, they do
scientists claim only humans foresee their
death but, being clinical in their assessments
analytical hearts can miss simpler truths
trapped now in a stumbling purposelessness
suffering through the long night’s cold
the hornet must intuit a finality coming
endless summer’s soft swaddling wind
driven away with exacting indifference
by the gods of winter practicing their blowing
the supple shell once daily warmed, now
creaks, and the inside flow of juices coalesce
into a merciless coldness as the season of living
slowly draws to an end. Can an ingenious insect
dying not parse the meaning? As it wobbles the
back porch rail I ask is it kinder to exact a swift ending,
or let it live, to feel the final moment arrive
Tiny muses! Thank you for sharing!
I'm fascinated by wasps and love reading your thoughts about them. That was a potent dose of humility for our species!
Here's Proust comparing a clever head servant, who lays traps for other servants, with a certain clever species of wasp:
"There is a species of hymenoptera, observed by Fabre, the burrowing wasp, which in order to provide a supply of fresh meat for her offspring after her own decease, calls in the science of anatomy to amplify the resources of her instinctive cruelty, and, having made a collection of weevils and spiders, proceeds with marvelous knowledge and skill to pierce the nerve-centre on which their power of locomotion (but none of their other vital functions) depends, so that the paralysed insect, beside which her egg is laid, will furnish the larva, when it is hatched, with a tamed and inoffensive quarry, incapable either of flight or of resistance, but perfectly fresh for the larder."
next week I have a quote from Darwin about this species. Thank you for this one!
I noticed a nest of paper wasps beginning to be shaped near the front door. Beautiful tubes of (what looks like) cardboard. I haven't had the nerve to attack it yet, but I may. Very topical essay today.
I almost forgot it was that time of year already. But I saw an enormous bumble bee yesterday.
I love hearing your voice, Ren. You are a superb reader.
I am so happy you signed on here.! I am really relieved not to be on Facebook. (I am still on messenger). Thank you <3