It was the end of my sophomore year, during which a panic attack was setting in.
My journalism workload was driving me into complete isolation, I wasn't progressing with teaching aerobics and my acting career had long since diminished. Seeking a place of meditation, I went to the Duck Pond to stare absentmindedly, contemplating an idea for my creative writing class. Our assignment was to convey a truth in the world without actually telling what the truth was. The secret to being a successful writer is to be able to tell a story and have its message represent a larger picture. Showing, but not telling, was what my inspiring professor was trying to drive into our heads.
I sat down and watched as a duck flew over to the pond, landed on it smoothly and began to swim. It had a rich green neck that extended into silky, light brown and royal purple feathers. His black, beady eyes continued to stare straight ahead, never taking them off its search for a prize. I decided to give the duck a name: Melvin. I watched as Melvin seemed to glide in circles. He then flew away and I was left sitting next to the pond.
However, Melvin flew back. This time with another duck who was just as elegantly composed, if not more so. I named him Bradley.
The two ducks drifted silently. They never looked at one another yet worked in perfect unison. They came so close to me, had I reached out, I would have been able to touch them. I became apprehensive. Being bitten by a duck would be a stupid reason to face injuries.
I was so caught up in my anxiety that I didn't realize Melvin had stuck his beak under the water and come up with a tiny fish. Seeing movement out of the corner of my eye, I looked up to find Melvin clamping down on this little fish.
This fish was doing everything its power to put up a good fight. He thrashed his little body in every direction, over and over. Melvin chewed on endlessly, his black beady eyes boring off into the distance. Bradley was looking off into the other direction, not even taking notice of the situation, as though this sort of thing happened too periodically to take notice.
That fish continued to fight for his survival, but Melvin was determined. At last, the fish let go. A fraction of a second later, Melvin had consumed the fish. Then Melvin and Bradley, in unison, floated onward, carrying on with their lives as though nothing had happened.
However, Melvin will eventually have to empty his insides. That fish will be back out in the world, in a new location and maybe as a different creature, with a different future. That fish will have a chance to start over and be something he may not have been able to be as a tiny fish.
I thought about how that brave little fish might have been on a huge adventure, even though it didn't have the brains to know it, and how something bigger had blocked its path. But I had witnessed that fish fighting and fighting against a force greater than him; then, realizing he couldn't control his fate anymore, he let go. Afterward, he experienced a new life, in a new form, with different possibilities. Maybe he didn't realize it while he was sitting in a pile of poop, but he had a new chance for a new life if he found a way out.
Sometimes we have to realize that when bad things happen to us, we can fight on in a never ending battle, or we can let go of the situation. Maybe it will lead us to the inside of a duck, but we don't know where that duck will lead us.
Our brains, bodies and predicaments may be bigger than that of a tiny fish, but that doesn't mean we can't appreciate the struggles of something smaller.
When in doubt, be that little fish.
Write to Meira at mabienstock@bsu.edu.
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