I decided to climb up into a tree fort to compose this blog.
There was an old inflatable figurine with wide, lifeless eyes – sans air – lying in the corner of the fort, so I picked it up to toss it down into the yard. Beneath it, water had collected and more than fifty large earwigs went writhing and scrambling with the sudden exposure. Much to my embarrassment, I shouted like a girl and jumped, until I realized that they weren’t going to hurt me. Not a fan, really. Then in the middle of this entry, a strange, leafy, orange-brown creature – half slug, half caterpillar – rounded the crest of my knee making good time. I sent him flying with a flick of my finger.
It did get me thinking about how sterile we are these days. Pasteurized milk, processed meats, shrink-wrapped video games? The list is long and our tolerance for anything dirty or “unsanitary” is short. We’re so easily pushed into this rut of sanitation that kneeling down and running your hands in the mud seems to border on ungodliness in the mind.
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with taking a shower or washing your hands or even shrink-wrapping a video game. But we become so preoccupied with this unnatural sterility that doors of good experience are shut because we won’t stand a little dirt.