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Interview with an Earthworm | David Wiley | Scene4 Magazine-April 2018 | Scene4.com

Interview With An Earthworm

David Wiley

 “Hello there! Do you mind being out of the earth for a few minutes?”

“It’s okay as long as I can stay in the shade, and the air isn’t too dry.”

“I could sprinkle some water on you, if that would help.”

“That would be very pleasant. Thanks.”

“I guess you don’t spend a lot of time out of the ground. What’s it like for you?”

“We don’t mind being out of the ground, so long as we don’t have to contend with the sun. I have relatives who climb out of the earth and travel great distances. But they always do it at night.”

“What about a bright moon?”

“We don’t notice the moon. We’re blind, you know. Not that it matters. We have no use for eyes, the way we live. But we are aware of the sun. It gives us discomfort. When we occasionally find ourselves in the sunlight, we start searching immediately for a way back into the earth.”

“Have you ever been in the sunlight very long?”

“Yes. One time I …… well, it’s a long story.”

“Can you tell it to me?”

“Sure. If you’ll keep sprinkling a little water on me …… thanks. Well, one day a boy dug me up and put me in a bucket with a bunch of other earthworms. There was some soil in the bucket, but not much. We were all in a state of what you would probably call panic. We became entangled with each other, and we were exhausting ourselves all squirming around like maniacs.  We were put in a dark place for a while, and then we sensed movement, as the earth shook frequently. Eventually we came to a stop….. and the next thing I knew I was being pulled out of the knot we had gotten ourselves into. I resisted as best I could, but it was no use. I was placed on top of a picnic table-in direct sunlight. Oh, my God! Maybe we don’t feel pain the way you do, but we sense what is pleasant and what is not.”

“And the sun was especially unpleasant?”

“It was more shocking than anything I had ever known. Yes, it was unpleasant. And yet ……. there was also something glorious about it. Anyway, I felt something akin to what I feel when I’ve ingested ergot.”

“Are you earthworms a bunch of ergotheads?”

“We don’t look for it, but we don’t avoid it either. It spices things up for us. Not that we need more spice in our lives.”

“Are you saying that your lives are not dull and monotonous?”

“ They are by your standards, I suppose. However, those of us who live to an old age don’t feel deprived of a rich, full life. We derive our excitement and variety from subtle things.”

“Like what?”

“First let me finish my story. Then we can talk about that.
So …… there I was, lying in the hot sunlight, almost senseless, when suddenly I was plucked up once again, and the next thing I knew a sharp piece of metal was being thrust through the middle of my body. and no sooner had this happened than I found myself being flung through the air into the pond. ‘What next?’ I kept asking myself. Before long I felt something slimy moving alongside me. Then, for some reason, I was free from the piece of metal and I began to sink. Water is okay with me, but I can’t survive in it forever. Finally I came to rest on the bottom of the pond.

“For a long time I was too weak to move. When I had regained some energy I started moving, in spite of my rather serious wound. I just slithered along as best I could. At last I came to the edge of the pond, and began crawling upward on a slight incline. Before I came to the very edge, though, I encountered a pocket of mud, and I almost felt like I was in the ground again. And it occurred to me that perhaps this would be a good place to linger a while, and let my wound heal, before getting back into my favorite soils. Here I would also be hidden from the various carnivores creatures who consider us a delicacy. Normally, for that reason, we prefer to keep a few inches between ourselves and the surface of the earth.

“So there I stayed, trying to make the best of my misfortune. I don’t know how long I remained in this mud pool, but eventually a big rainstorm came up, and I was washed out into the middle of the pond, where a kind of current then took hold of me, and swept me into a dark, watery tunnel where I was tumbled and tumbled until I landed in a stream. Once again I was battered and exhausted, unable to move in any direction. the shock and uncertainty of it, the wildness and helplessness of it all, gave me a feeling I’d never had before, or since. A strange kind of ecstasy. The waters let me go my own free way. As I floated just beneath the surface, sometimes the sun shone on me but I felt no discomfort, for the water shielded me. At last I came to rest in a quiet part of the stream. And there I sank to the bottom. And after a brief rest I began to crawl toward the bank of the stream. When I found it I immediately began to tunnel into the earth. I enjoyed returning to my natural habitat, eating my way through the soil, happy to be back in a place I understood. Now here I am, telling my story to you.”

“You had quite an odyssey.”

“I think about it a lot.”

“Do earthworms have good memories?”

“Not really. Our memories are very selective. We’re  too busy with the present. Which reminds me of your previous question, about why our lives are not dull and monotonous.”

“Oh, yes. The subtleties you were talking about.”

“Well, to begin with consider this. When I move through the earth, swallowing some of it as I go, all the surfaces of my body, inside and out, are constantly being touched and caressed by the earth. There is light, moist friction everywhere, all at once. The faster I go, the more intense it becomes. It’s a lot more than just pleasant, I can tell you that. And another thing, eating on the go is more exciting than you’d think. We are always faced with choices. The soil in front of us is full of variety, so our decision-making processes are constantly in play. On the one hand, we have the sensuality of the soil to keep our bodies happy, and on the other hand we have the challenge to our discriminatory powers to keep our minds alive.”

“I didn’t realize your species had such interesting lives.”

“It’s not very obvious I suppose.”

“In any  case, thanks for enlightening me about you and your kind.”

“The pleasure was mine. And now I must wiggle my way back into the universe of dirt.”

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Scene4 Magazine - David Wiley

David Wiley, painter-poet, exhibits throughout
California and abroad. A book about his work,
The Poetry of Color, is in progress.
His painting and poetry appears monthly in Scene4 (q.v.)
For more of his paintings, poetry and articles, check the
Archives.
To inquire about David Wiley's paintings, Click Here.
 

©2018 David Wiley
©2018 Publication Scene4 Magazine

 

 

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April 2018

Volume 18 Issue 11

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