When we went for a stroll in the Guadalupe Mountain State Park a couple of weekends ago, there were ants on the hiking trail. Herself did not notice them until they were pointed out to her; and then she noticed them with an astonishing regularity. They moved across the path in their busy little lines, doing whatever business needed to be done. To and fro, separate yet together, like a Borg collective.
We do not often see them -- and yet they are always there, working, striving, surviving. Do they find satisfaction in their tiny Ant Tasks? Joy? Are they pure instinct, motivated by genes and pheromones and an inescapable drive? What is it like, to be an ant?
Be humble as the blade of grass that is being trodden underneath the feet. The little ant tastes joyously the sweetness of honey and sugar. The mighty elephant trembles in pain under the agony of sharp goad. -- John Ruskin
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