The Worm Parable

How can I be two million places at once?, the little worm asked from atop a cherry tree. He pondered and he pondered, and yet all he felt was a building yearning in his tummy for lettuce leaves. And so he finally slithered down the tree and filled himself with fat juicy green leaves. But he was nowhere near to solving his riddle. So he sate with his full belly and thunk some more, lazily, drifting between drowsal and logistical delusion. He recognized, for sure, that the basic dilemma of the situation was that in order to be there while still being here necessitated a kind of astral-hyper-mental projection beyond the confines of the visible temporal space-world of his slimy yellow limbs. But the fact was, firstly, that he had been hungry, and so could not move beyond the immediate stimuli of his hunger. And then the fact was, secondly, that he now was full, and so could not escape the groggy inertia of his stuffed stomach. Really, he thought, I am bound by my appetites, and either I have not enough or too much. How can I be hungry and yet be full at the same time? Then my mind could be everywhere, anywhere I think to be. And yet there was this basic problem of time. The little worm was a little worm and felt that perhaps one day he would be a tremendous dune worm like his ancestors. But right now he recognized himself as a little worm. And once he was a littler worm, a tiny worm. I am trapped by my growth, he thought. If I could just be everything I could ever be and ever was right now, then I would no longer be confined within my self now.
The little worm tried to be all the worms he could be, at once, but he saw himself in the reflection of a dew drop on a petal, and he felt everyone inside of him fall away.
Is all that I am illusion?, he wondered. Is what I see now before me another dream that will melt away in the sun, is what I feel within me another desire to be stuffed momentarily, another hope to be made starved?

And the little worm decided nothing.
And he slithered away to sleep until he was hungry


Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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