So, we are now experiencing a Hitchkokian plague of caterpillars here in the formerly serene, but now roaring, town of Manhole, and you know what? I am strangely okay with them.
Everybody else is freaking the hell out, spraying, squishing, and ew-ing all over the place as they walk through curtains of caterpillars, picking them out of their hair, their pockets, even their ears.
They’re starting to eat the trees, these caterpillars, and sometimes, if you’re quiet enough, you can here this buzzing sound in the air which is the sound of their collective munching.
I must say I am enjoying these caterpillars, first, because everyone else is freaking over them; and secondly, because they are temporarily distracting me from the plague of the roaring, belching, gas trucks.
After the caterpillars eat their fill of the trees, they’ll morph into something else and the leaves will grow back. The caterpillars are a naturally occurring plague, like wildfires in the west. You can try to control them, but it’s best to let them just burn themselves out.
I read somewhere recently that if you want to be happy, you have to find a way to fall in love with reality. If your happiness always depends on things going as you wish or desire, your chances of achieving happiness are slim to none.
Whereas, if you are able to accept, and even enjoy, any reality (that you are not able to manipulate to please yourself), then you will have a real shot at true contentment and joy.
I can’t control the caterpillars, or the gas trucks, but I find it curious that people will freak over, and want to spray to get rid of, a hungry little bug, yet not even see the long-term effects of the gas “play.”