The snail moves slowly, inching along, and soon has ingested my whole garden. Good for the snail. It kept going. Then again, I imagine it’s easier for the snail. The snail doesn’t curse its own slowness, second-guess its choice of veggie beds, meet the resistance of wanting to be a bunny, or perhaps an earthworm.
It doesn’t stop its munching because it’s bikini season. It does its thing, persistently, steadily, steadfastly. And when its gotten all it needs from my garden, it moves on.
To be clear: I don’t want to be a snail. But I’m inspired by their diligence and clarity. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of second-guessing. They do their thing, as best they can, and then they die.
I have a thing, it’s trying to make the world a better place. It’s a broad kind of purpose, I’d probably get a C-minus in AIM class or whatever, but it’s a good enough focus for me. I’m gonna keep going.