a shell for a house

The snail he lives in his hard round house,
In the orchard, under the tree;
Says he: “I have but a single room,
But it’s large enough for me.”

far too often we tend to forget how blessed we are. if you are reading this right now you probably own a device that can access the internet. if you do, then you are one of those fortunate few who have access to global information 24/7. that is to say, you are not oblivious to the going ons in the world around you. therefore, you witness our planet as a stage upon which tragedy, beauty and comedy are mixed together at the same time. and you watch…and wonder whether you are able to influence these going ons, to eradicate the tragic element.

at least i do!

far too often, you’re just too late to do anything about it. and it starts with the tiniest creature that you find helplessly and cruelly crushed in the middle of the pavement. you might laugh (which is the comedic part), but this snail simply wanted to cross over this concrete desert to enter into his very own promised land. it’s not like he took all his belongings, like the tv set, computer, ipod, ipad, clothes, food etc.

he simply took one thing: his home.

how often do we wish we could just take home with us?

immigrants and asylum seekers from around the world are forced to take only what’s necessary with them. for most of them, their homes were crushed long ago. some carry a reminder of that distant place known as home, like a talisman made by the daughter or son. like the snail, the immigrants travel on their own, eventually meeting up with fellow travelers.

there is a certain beauty in their struggle to leave their loved ones and risk everything to simply get somewhere where they can LIVE…and work to feed their families. the snail, with the morning sunrays shining on its awesomely constructed, glittering shell, is beautiful in its own way. the slime signaling the path it has travelled, like an airplane leaving patterns in the sky.

the majority of immigrants do not make it to this promised land. or they come to the realization that the land they arrived in is just another version of the hell they’ve been through. there are some places where they are forced to live in old shipping containers.

now try telling yourself that you are a much higher life form compared to snails. as humans we might not be crushing another human beings homes (though that frequently does happen!). as humans we crush other people’s hopes. and a life without hope is truly worthless. it’s a brutal murder of dreams, desires and the belief that beyond the concrete desert there IS something better.

i did not see a living snail this morning. i saw a crushed shell with the remains of once was a snail with the most basic dreams…perhaps. i prefer to see my day start with something else than the encounter of death in its tiniest form. however, the sunrays did still shine on this creature and allowed me to ponder the meaning of tragedy when all hope is absent.

the truth is that we can lose everything…our home…our belongings…our excess of stuff…but we just cannot lose hope…in whatever it is that drives you to crossing that concrete desert EVERY day to move one step closer toward your dreams.

and so this is why, whenever i see a snail that is alive and making slow progress toward where it wants to get to, i pick it up and place it where i think it might do better. as humans it’s difficult sometimes to drop our arrogance. our lives should be a journey in which we learn to listen to the stories of others and give them a continued reason to hope!

change begins with writing a new story for mankind, where tragedy only features as a catalyst to bring us all closer together.   

To read up on a recent immigrant story, follow the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/23/world/europe/malta-struggles-under-wave-of-african-migrants.html?_r=0