The Wisdom of the Cicada

I don’t suppose we require a fresh metaphor for the futility of life, but if we did, the cicadas could certainly provide us with one.

Those long years of cool nothingness, and then an upward crawl, a clumsy flight, a raucous song, a reproductive tumble and a tumble into the dirt, all within weeks.

But at least they don’t bite. 

And what more vivid example of “living in the moment” could we find than the infrequent visits of our little red-eyed, flying friends?

The Homless One

 

His hand-lettered sign said “homless.” I gave him 10 singles and he replied, “Thanks … oh, wow!” 

I wished him luck, this tattered, youngish man who’d run out of it some time back.