Sitting close the Park on Guy Fawkes Day I didn’t know it was Guy Fawkes day until I’d hear fireworks go off interrupting the gentle hum of the park. The crisp autumn air and a whiff of smoke carried the scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires, while the defo faint pop of fireworks punctuated the sky above. I did get hit by a branch that fell off a tree – OUCH, EINA — I almost went back home tbh. However, the laughter of families, the chatter of couples created a sense of life all around me. Please go listen to Kiss of Life by Sade, that song sonically captures how I felt. As I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, I could feel the presence of the park’s community in every direction.
Above ground, people strolled by—some lost in conversation, others lost in their own thoughts. Children darted playfully through the grass, their footsteps echoing the joy of a carefree day and ants EATING and MUNCHING through my carrot cake </3.
Beneath the earth, an entirely different community thrived. The soil, rich with organic matter — I really wonder how much money goes into maintaining these grounds.,
As I opened my eyes, I felt connected to all of it: the people, the plants, the animals, and the unseen world beneath my feet – not so much the insects. It was a community in the truest sense, where every element contributed to the harmony of the space — this is what I needed amidst all the election h00 ha.
I wanted to elaborate on why I feel so disconnected from insects (please hear me out ha ha):
It’s fascinating how our relationship with insects can shift, especially when we become more mindful of the space they occupy. The more I think about it, the more it feels like being a guest in a place that’s been theirs long before we arrived. Being a good guest means observing and respecting the rhythms of the environment, not reacting out of fear but instead embracing the presence of creatures that are so integral to the ecosystem. But they’re still creepy and crawly, that gives me the heebie jeebies.
Insects, like the ants marching through the grass or the bees buzzing around flowers, are vital links in the web of life – Mufasa said this in the Lion King (I booked my tickets to go see the Lion King in theatre because of this epiphany). By sitting in their space, I can learn to be more attuned to their movements, their role in the ecosystem, and how my actions impact the delicate balance they maintain.
When I’m at my sister’s house she always says “Kukwami apha, kuzokhala esami isicathulo”. Which means, “this is my house, it is my shoe that cries (I call the shots)”. I think when ants eat my carrot cake and somehow eat my chocolate bar, they’re putting me in my place because I am on their turf now. Not in a violent way of course. Through this fellowship I am learning how to be a good guest on their turf.
Becoming a good guest means recognizing that we all coexist in these spaces, even when we’re aware of the discomfort or surprise they might provoke. Instead of running away, I can sit and observe—take a deep breath, and allow the little creatures to do their work around me. I can be present, open to the world of insects, and in doing so, maybe even find a sense of peace in being a humble guest.
In my sketch, I tried to capture this sense of my feelings, what I had been thinking about. I drew my thoughts. Not done yet, TO BE CONTINUED.
