Vibrant Village ™

This snail trail has formed a heart

I often wonder how far the notion of sentient beings extends into the natural world that is non-mammalian.  I confess to often engaging in conversations with all manner of that other world. When not in conversation, I might find a message. Then I might wonder if a message is for all of humanity, for me in particular, just for others of their own species or meaningless random ramblings?

I don't really know and would answer differently in different places and moods. The thickness of the veil does indeed change in different places or at different times.

What are these snail trails saying?

In my marsh meanders, I often read the travels of the marsh snails and love the different personalities – the flowery and tangential compared to the markings that seem to be factual and direct. Some seem to be soliloquies and some conversations. Then I might wonder, if they are communicating, what is the content – warnings of danger, what happened at high tide on a nearby stalk of grass, snail gossip or something more philosophical. Perhaps this is the real 'snail mail' (I just couldn't resist).

Their memories and oral history must be either strong or non-existent since the tides clear away most messages daily.

In contrast, the 'marks' or writings' on the inside of tree bark take longer to complete and are larger and bolder. And, these remain private until the bark is separated from its tree. I would like these to be 'tree talk' translations that the worms might have taken on as their work.

This worm has marked its passage with a 'w'

I want to know how our actions and our world seem to a tree that may have been watching the same area for a hundred years. I need that perspective. And, if they could tell us just one thing, what would that be? Although, who knows, the tree bark worms may not know how to listen to their tree hosts.

I am not sure we humans do a particularly spectacular job of  listening ourselves.

How often do we take time to wonder about meaning that other forms of life might be screaming at us, or to hold a shell and wonder how its life might have unfolded ?