When to Not Follow Instincts
On the last Saturday of August, I turned on the lights of the porch and a swarm of termites rushed toward the bulbs. They threw themselves against the glass lamp nervously and coated every centimeter of wall. One butterfly flew among them, confused. And one lizard stood there, vertically by one of the bulbs, excited but vastly outnumbered. It’s the beginning of spring, time to come out to mate and find new homes, with the help of the moon for orientation. So, I spent some time in the dark while they reoriented themselves.
The next day, despite the pandemic, people swarmed toward beaches to enjoy the sun. Winter is over, and so was isolation. Humans, in many ways like a swarm of termites, have instincts that fail to keep up with drastic context changes. The moon is no longer the only source of light in this land — what once was a patch of costal Atlantic forest. As much as we are adaptable, we find ways to rationalize unreasonable behaviors to delay change.
Certain things have changed already, irreversibly, such as how our bodies exist in the world and influence it. Our bodies matter, which is why the distance between them matters. Termites also matter to the world — a world that doesn't surround around human possessions. They help decompose the bodies of dead trees, returning nutrients to the soil and making way for a new generation of trees. They, too, worship tree corpses, though they practice it more sustainably.
In what unsustainable ways do we practice our worship? Whether it is the worship of cash, of other people or our own bodies, we may be practicing rituals that not only distance us from what we value most, but could also be destroying it. The instinct to socialize and sunbathe, for instance, as an oath to the people we love, including ourselves, though valid before 2020, may be more of a curse today. Just like the termites were able to appreciate the moonlight, but get distracted by a much weaker light just because it's closer, finding nothing but glass, concrete and chemically treated wood.
COVD-19 and isolation may have reframed how we view our bodies in the world, and therefore will reframe how we worship, whatever that may be. That's not a bad thing, traditions can evolve to become even more powerful. In many ways, change is what we worship for. If someone worships wealth, though the idea of it might be immutable, they want how much they have of it to change. Even in worshiping deities, eternal as they might be, they are seen as having the power of Change.
I was one of the people who went to the beach that Sunday, unaware that I was part of a swarm. The crowd surprised me and made me conscious of not having a mask. The most surprising thing, though, was the realization that I now have a weakened sense of what my body is capable of, what it can handle, and way more things seem like a threat. I used to be so fearless, biking through cars, climbing massive rocks by the beach, exploring hidden trails, and staring down from the cliff. It's probably safe to say that 2020 has made us feel vulnerable, and many of us just don't want to accept that. But there are new, innovative ways to rebuilt trust in our bodies, we just have to want to look for them.
Certain things change, and falling back into old ways of handling them can be counterproductive. Especially for those of us who want to continue being resistance, it's important to keep our immutable goals in sight, so we know the mutable tactics we can rely on to effectively achieve them without getting distracted by shiny things on the way.
Mirna Wabi-Sabi
is site editor at Gods and Radicals, founding member of the Brazilian magazine Enemy of the Queen and of the Plataforma 9 media collective.