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The Snail Once upon a time there was a snail living on an old tree. He didn't remember whether he was born there or had come from somewhere else. But even if he had, it didn't really matter any more, for he could remember neither any other place nor traveling. Moreover, he had no desire to leave this old tree which he found very comfortable. It provided for all his needs which were very modest and, if worst came to the worst, he could always hide in his shell and wait for better times. If he felt like going for a walk he would just move up and down the trunk or from one branch to another. But that was the extent of his travels. Everything else beyond his old tree looked suspicious and threatening to him. But though the snail lived alone on his tree he never felt lonely. There were always different animals and birds passing by and occasionally some would stop to say hello. And when they were not in a hurry going from here to there on seemingly very important business they would spend some time with the snail telling him about their travels and adventures. As a matter of fact, as time went by, they did it more and more often, for they found in the snail an exceptionally good listener. And not only that — they could count on the snail being always at the same place and so it wasn't necessary to look for him when one had an especially interesting story to tell. They also valued the fact, much appreciated by all tellers of tales, that the snail never toled his own stories, for he thought he had none since he went nowhere. So, sometimes the eagle would alight on the branch next to the snail to tell him about faraway places he recently flew to; the high snowy mountains, the blue lakes full of fish, the deep green valleys with white sheep grazing on the slopes. He would tell the snail that he was such a great hunter that no prey could ever escape from him. He would tell him that he was the biggest and the strongest of all the birds. And the snail would listen most attentively, feeling both humility and pride that such a magnificent individual found time to spend with such an insignificant creature as he was. The next day an antelope might come to the tree in search of fresh grass and noticing the snail would tell him how many miles she often had to travel to find food, sometimes through the dry desert without a drop of water to drink, another time crossing the swift river full of crocodiles. But she can run as fast as the wind and no predator could ever catch her. Just the other day she easily escaped a pack of wolves and discovered a field of succulent grass on which she fed in leisure to her heart's content. And hearing that the snail was filled with the most sincere admiration; for being extremely slow and clumsy himself he could fully appreciate someone else's speed and agility. Occasionally a jaguar would climb the tree, sometimes dragging his kill to hide in the branches, other times just to rest. He then would complain to the snail about the prey that got away that day, and how tired and hungry he often was, having to work so hard to fill his stomach . And the snail would truly feel sorry for the poor jaguar, for he himself could always find something to eat on his tree, without any effort. And so it went on, day after day, month after month, year after year. The snail would always be on his old tree, greeting the passers by, ready to lend his ear to the exciting stories of their wonderful exploits and heroic deeds, yet being himself more or less content with his uneventful life. His friends would talk, he would listen, occasionally asking a question. Sometimes he would even offer advice, though it was never heeded, for both sides knew that he, as someone completely ignorant about the world beyond his old tree, was hardly qualified to give any useful advice, especially to such seasoned travelers and adventurers as his friends were. But while his friends clearly enjoyed having someone like him to be always ready and willing to hear about their struggles and glories, victories and defeats, successes and failures, they also gradually started to feel guilty for "using him." And so, to assuage their guilt, they began to tell the snail that he should start traveling as well and learn more about the world. Thus, after telling him as usual about their latest adventures they would urge him to embark on one of his own. They would tell him that the world was full of exciting and wonderful things, and that he really had nothing to worry about in going there. "You should be more adventurous," the eagle would say. "You don't even know how much you're missing." "Life is short! One day you are here, the next you're gone " the antelope would repeat again and again, "one has to live it to the fullest." "Seize the day," echoed the jaguar. Nothing in life can be compared to the joy of victory." And so forth and so on. And they talked like this every time they came to see the snail. For, in truth, they did feel sorry for him, for not having been anywhere nor seen anything beyond his old tree. And the snail himself, the more he listened to his friends urgings, the more he began to doubt the wisdom of leading such a protective, cautious and, let's face it, rather uneventful and boring life. And the more he expressed such doubts the more forcefully his friends would exhort him to plunge into the wide world. And the more they insisted the more he was inclined to do just that. Then one day, driven by curiosity and, not in a small measure, by the desire to please his friends, and also by the prospect of being able to tell them about his adventures as they always told him, the snail had finally overcome his reluctance and fear of the unknown and decided to go. Slowly (for he was a snail after all) he climbed down the tree. And then, also slowly, he began crossing the road. But alas, he had chosen the most inauspicious time for his first foray into the exciting life of an adventurer. For just as he was reaching the middle of the road a herd of elephants was moving along it. The elephants were so huge that they couldn't see a tiny snail crossing the road and one of them, inadvertently, stepped on the snail and instantly crushed him to death. His sudden death was a great shock to his friends. They lamented it intensely and for a long time. They now realized how irreplaceable he was as a friend and how deeply they were attached to him. They knew they would never find another one so willing to be absorbed into their lives, to the full exclusion of his own, someone who would listen with such great attention to their stories, who would share their joys and sorrows, who would laugh when they laughed and cry when they cried; one who made them feel really interesting and important. And without that their own lives became much less meaningful. They missed him very much. They were also raked with guilt of feeling responsible for his death, for encouraging someone so inexperienced to go into the outside world and to be crushed so quickly. If only they could turn the clock back. Why hadn't they just left him alone to live a life he was so comfortable with? Why did they urge one so innocent, so fragile to risk his life? And for what? Their grief, their remorse was profound and sincere and they began to question the value of their own lives as well. Was it really so full of excitement as they thought? Were they too egotistical, too full of themselves to see anything else? Was the snail right to live the life he did? Was he wrong? What was the right life? Does anyone have a choice? Was it a right question? They didn't know the answers, and had no one to turn to. All they knew for certain was that their dearest friend, the only loyal friend they ever had was dead. And if death teaches one anything it is about what one values the most. They truly missed him. |
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