Leave Nature Alone

My late aunt came through with a message recently:

“Leave nature alone.”

She came through while I was standing in my kitchen reaching for cleaner to spray a trail of ants marching across my counter toward a tiny drop of spilled honey left behind from the lemon and honey drink I had made the night before.

And believe me, my first thought was not, “Oh, a spiritual message from my beloved aunt.” It was more along the lines of:

“Get out of my kitchen, you pests!”

But interestingly, the idea of spraying them immediately raised the hairs on my arms. Something about it didn’t feel quite right.

Instead of spraying them, I cleaned the honey.

The ants disappeared soon after.

Simple enough.

But apparently, the ants were not done teaching me things.

I began wondering how often in life we immediately react to the visible irritation while failing to recognize the condition attracting it in the first place.

In this case, the ants were not randomly plotting against me from the shadows.

They were responding to honey.

You might be thinking, "Oh, crap! I had a feeling this was going to turn into a life lesson."

Yes, and once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it.

I think life works this way more often than we would like.

Sometimes we become so focused on the visible problem that we never stop long enough to ask what is attracting it, feeding it, or keeping it going.

The ants disappeared after the honey was removed.

Again: annoying information.

I could practically hear my aunt laughing at me at this point, telling me I was “moving onto a higher metaphysical plane” over a line of ants and a drop of honey.

But maybe that was the point.

Apparently, the universe had to use the ants to get my attention.

Or my aunt.

Honestly, both may be true.

Because somewhere between the honey, the ants, and my immediate desire to spray first and think later--I had the uncomfortable realization that this may not have been about my kitchen at all.

Maybe we do this everywhere.

React before observing.

Interfere before understanding.

Force before listening.

“Leave nature alone.”

Simple.

Slightly inconvenient.

Oddly profound.

And maybe that’s enough wisdom for one line of ants.