Before You Swat the Wasp...read this.
Lying out by the pool in my condo complex, I opened my eyes and noticed a yellow-jacket perched on the empty chaise lounge next to mine. It was sitting there, about a foot from my bare foot. I felt the fear well up inside, triggered, in all likelihood, by the memory of being repeatedly and painfully stung in the neck by a yellow-jacket when I was nine-years old. As soon as my fear arose, so too did the desire to vanquish it by killing the wasp. I sat up. It would be easy; the yellow-jacket was motionless, I could simply grab one of my sandals and give it a solid swat. The threatening insect would be crushed by my shoe and the source of my fear would disappear. I could then lie back down, close my eyes and rest assured that I was safe.
I watched the yellow-jacket
carefully. In truth, it seemed utterly
indifferent to my presence. It gave no
indication that it was planning to sting me.
It seemed like it was sitting on the chaise lounge in order to rest its
wings or to absorb some of the wonderful warmth of the sun – the same reasons I
was sitting on my chaise lounge. Who
knows? I’m not a wasp so I can’t even
pretend that I could ascertain the reason for its presence on the lounge; I
could only observe its behavior.
I
continued to sit there, observing both the yellow-jacket and my fear with equal
amounts of fascination. The wasp was a
living creature. Was I willing to take
its life in a preemptive strike because of the possibility that it might do me
harm? But look how long that stinger is!
Because of what some other yellow-jacket had done to me almost forty
years ago? It hurt so much I still remember even thirty-eight years later! When it wasn’t buzzing angrily or giving
any indication it planned to strike? But that could change in an instant! Kill it now before it has a chance!
The
longer I watched the yellow-jacket the more it seemed that it was simply on its
yellow-jacket journey and that it really wasn’t concerned with me at all. I watched my fear and saw clearly that it was
based on a possibility, but not a certainty, that the yellow-jacket might cause
me harm. My fear was based on
my projection of what might
happen in the future; the reality of the moment was that the yellow-jacket was
sitting there minding its own business. Still, there was a real
risk. Which would win out: my desire for self-protection or my
regard for the sanctity of life?
I
decided that my fear about the yellow-jacket’s potential to harm me, real as
that potential was, did not give me the right to bring its life to an end. I laid back down on my chaise lounge and
closed my eyes, willing to allow the wasp and my fear to co-exist. When I reopened my eyes several minutes
later, both had vanished. The lesson
was powerful.
Jan
Zahler Lebow