Nature Journal 1


I saw a cricket today. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the insect despite that fact that I had noticed the creature. It moved to quickly for me to take a picture and thus I am not able to show you it now. It looked like any other cricket with its rough, scratchy, black exoskeleton and long wiry legs. It was just sitting on a tall blade of grass and preparing for its next jump. The cricket did not even chirp, as crickets tend to do, but rather sat there silent and austere. It was just a cricket, and yet something about it made me pause and think.
 What a simple, insignificant life this cricket led. If that it was to die no one would care or more likely even notice. In fact, no one (myself excluded) seemed to even notice the cricket while it was alive. I guess that cricket is kind of like us in that way. Most of lead lives that will be so soon forgotten to time and history. The only thing noteworthy in our existence is what is seen by the brief glance of a passerby. If we were to die right now, I’m sure people would notice; there would be mourning and maybe even a funeral but in the grand setting of history (after we’ve been entirely forgotten) we are no more important than a cricket. We sit high on the grass thinking we can see the world and focus intently on our next jump but, we are just crickets, silent crickets doomed to insignificance and the oblivion of time.

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