Accidental Murder!
Yesterday, I decided to eat at an Italian restaurant near my home. It is a place that I often frequent, because it is convenient, cheap and it provides a comfortable space where I can drink a large glass of beer and read a book.
Whilst I was eating my tomato spaghetti, a tiny fly decided to land upon my plate. Quickly, I decided that it was preferable for both of us, if I gently lifted him (?) off the spot of tomato sauce he had decided to explore. As I did so, his tiny wings became covered in the sauce, and his legs also became stuck together. In a desperate attempt to save him, I tried to use a damp serviette to try and clean him off. This just seemed to make matters worse.
I had a dilemma. It was now certain that he was either dead or about to die. I felt very saddened by this tiny fly's unfortunate fate. My choice to visit that restaurant, on that day, at that time, at that table, with that dish, and my good intentions, had brought about the end of his fragile life.
Instead of leaving him at the side of the plate, where he would have been washed away in the kitchen, I decided to bring him home in a film container that I happened to have in my bag. He is now somewhere on my small shrine, surrounded by Buddhas. It may mean nothing to the fly, but it means something to me.
Whilst I was eating my tomato spaghetti, a tiny fly decided to land upon my plate. Quickly, I decided that it was preferable for both of us, if I gently lifted him (?) off the spot of tomato sauce he had decided to explore. As I did so, his tiny wings became covered in the sauce, and his legs also became stuck together. In a desperate attempt to save him, I tried to use a damp serviette to try and clean him off. This just seemed to make matters worse.
I had a dilemma. It was now certain that he was either dead or about to die. I felt very saddened by this tiny fly's unfortunate fate. My choice to visit that restaurant, on that day, at that time, at that table, with that dish, and my good intentions, had brought about the end of his fragile life.
Instead of leaving him at the side of the plate, where he would have been washed away in the kitchen, I decided to bring him home in a film container that I happened to have in my bag. He is now somewhere on my small shrine, surrounded by Buddhas. It may mean nothing to the fly, but it means something to me.
3 comments:
Oh I know the feeling. Quite a common theme in my life too, that one. Unfortunately, this is the awkward side of things when we really start to feel the same life flowing through everything, no matter no small it is. But are often surrounded by otherwise decent people who think nothing of crushing a beautiful daddy long legs (for example) just because they 'can'. Even gets to the point where I feel terrible defending myself against mosquitos or fleas, which are leaving nasty itchy swollen bites on me. Oh the trials of 'empathy' LOL. Perhaps we should both sign up for "Jain Monastic life" monthly, and buy our face masks?
Yes, it really is a dilemma.
When I was young, I am ashamed to say, like so many children, I experimented upon insects, to satisfy my curiosity. Now that I have matured, I am shocked at my once frivalous attitude to life.
Like you, Alexander, I also have a an issue trying to live with mosquitos and the horribly large cockroaches that inhabit all homes in Japan. What to do?
A Buddhist nun friend of mine in England, was quite severe when she said that all life must not be killed, including fleas and mites...
You should have just eaten the dead fly....no reason for a nutritious option to go to waste.
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