It’s late summer in Colorado and the grasshoppers are out in force on the path where I stroll each evening. I’m no entomologist but I find these critters fascinating. As I walk along the trail, they leap everywhere from everywhere. It took me awhile to realize the clicking sound I hear is the sound of exoskeletons landing on the concrete trail. Apparently, grasshoppers are much better suited to leaping than landing.
I admire the abandon with which they hurl themselves into the air, caution thrown quite literally to the wind. Wouldn’t it be great to leap to whatever’s next with that kind of energy? To throw yourself into what you’re doing with that unmitigated passion? I once had a boss who was fond of saying, “Do something – even if it’s wrong.” This, she felt, prevented paralysis from analysis. I think of that sentiment when I watch these grasshoppers flying in all directions on the trail in front of me.
Another thing I’ve noticed about these daredevils is that they jump in whatever direction they’re facing when they pull the trigger – even if it’s right smack into whatever startled them into launching in the first place. Often, they leap directly under my foot so quickly I have no opportunity to avoid giving them a crunchy send-off to the grasshopper hereafter. Again, I’m reminded of the perils of “doing something – even if it’s wrong.” In this case, the result of avoiding analysis is a permanent case of paralysis.
Each year at this time, the path is littered with the remains of these adventurous creatures. It’s a pretty gory sight. What’s even more disturbing is that each carcass is visited by more grasshoppers, feasting at the expense of their former co-leapers.
Then I wonder if any of the consumers at these grotesque meals ever said to their unfortunate buddies in some chirpy sort of grasshopper-speak: “Do something – even if it’s wrong.”
I admire the abandon with which they hurl themselves into the air, caution thrown quite literally to the wind. Wouldn’t it be great to leap to whatever’s next with that kind of energy? To throw yourself into what you’re doing with that unmitigated passion? I once had a boss who was fond of saying, “Do something – even if it’s wrong.” This, she felt, prevented paralysis from analysis. I think of that sentiment when I watch these grasshoppers flying in all directions on the trail in front of me.
Another thing I’ve noticed about these daredevils is that they jump in whatever direction they’re facing when they pull the trigger – even if it’s right smack into whatever startled them into launching in the first place. Often, they leap directly under my foot so quickly I have no opportunity to avoid giving them a crunchy send-off to the grasshopper hereafter. Again, I’m reminded of the perils of “doing something – even if it’s wrong.” In this case, the result of avoiding analysis is a permanent case of paralysis.
Each year at this time, the path is littered with the remains of these adventurous creatures. It’s a pretty gory sight. What’s even more disturbing is that each carcass is visited by more grasshoppers, feasting at the expense of their former co-leapers.
Then I wonder if any of the consumers at these grotesque meals ever said to their unfortunate buddies in some chirpy sort of grasshopper-speak: “Do something – even if it’s wrong.”
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