Here is a story. It is ture.
One day a little boy from a neighborhood not too far away was playing outside in his front yard. It was a nice summer day with a deep blue sky and cool green grass. A comforting summer breeze blew through the trees to make the leaves rub against each other making a sound as if the trees were trying to speak out, or as if they were speaking out, just not in a human language. The boy looked up as if understanding a tree in full and walked over to its trunk. There the boy found a rather large ant bed. Now this boy absolutely loved ants. The skinny red ones, the big black ones, those that live in trees, those that dig deep beneath the earth, the kind that cut intricate designs in leaves, the kinds that seem busy and the kinds that seem even busier.
The boy would sit and watch the ants for hours. There was a simplicity to their lives that they seemed to complicate so much. Where are they constantly going? What are they constantly doing?
The boy suddenly awoke as if from a trance as a car pulled into his driveway. His brother got out, the brother who hates ants. This brother would destroy an ant bed just because there was nothing better to do. Just to see his large footprint imbedded in the dirt and crippled remains of the home and lives of so many ants. Just to see his brother tear up a little.
So the little boy decided that that would not happen this time. He had never had an ant farm, but immediately became determined to make one. He found some clear sheets of glass in the backyard that were extra pieces from a hummingbird feeder that was recently constructed. He carefully pieced together the glass and some wood into a nice thin box and filled it with dirt. He spent three days constructing it all and making sure the moisture level was perfect for his new ants, all the while praying that his brother would not see what he was doing or see the ant pile.
The boy did not want to forcibly remove the ants from their home, so he set out the newly built ant farm in the hope that some of the ants would choose to enter it. He left it out for two days. While this was happening he raided the kitchen and the neighbor’s yards in order to collect plenty of seeds, pollen, grain, and leaves to sustain the ants. He got big seeds and small seeds, purple flowers and yellow flowers, tall grain and short grain from the neighbor’s field, thick big, dark green leaves from the tall oak trees and small skinny, light green leaves from the new elm trees. He also got a few sugary sweets like orange peels for the ants. During the second night of having the art farm out, the boy went to see what it was like. To his complete joy, the ant farm was filled with a perfect amount of ants! So, he made sure that there were none coming or going and took the ant farm back to his room. He put on the lid and marveled at this new, exciting world. He knew that to really take care of it, he would have to get some rest now, so he went to sleep along with his new bit of creation.
After this, the boy would just sit and watch the ants all day. Everything they did was amazing to him. He could sit squatting on his bed for hours just staring into the ant farm, watching the ants make their intricate tunnels. He wanted to help them so bad so that they could rest and just enjoy their new home, but he knew that it would only disturb them and that it was something they had to do on their own. But the boy would often take off the lid to talk to the ants. He knew they wouldn’t be able to understand him, but he felt a great need to do this.
When he did open the lid, often some ants would try to climb out. When this happened, the boy would carefully offer his finger for the ants to crawl on and he would deliver them back into their home onto the right path. They would bite him as he did this, but he didn’t care and even in mid bite, he would still calmly deliver the ants back into the safety and security of the ant farm. He knew they would not be able to survive in his room.
After a while, the ants made some really extravagant tunnels and had used just about all the space they had. They didn’t need anything more, but they kept themselves busy scurrying around, testing this bit of sand and that. But ultimately, they were happy. The ants were grateful for their new home and the community they now had. They did not know why they were so lucky to have incurred this blessing of stability and comfort. And every now and then they even got to hear the Great Voice speaking to them. They couldn’t understand it, but would try to climb up to praise it. Some of the braver ones even climbed out of the security of their home to try to express their appreciation to the Great Voice. But, it is a scary world and no one had ever made it. They were sad at those times that they could not really bring the Great Voice their thanks. They felt that they could not do anything worthy enough to really bring It their appreciation. They would jump around dancing and singing. They would collect the best seeds and sweetest grains to set aside for the Great Voice. They would work their hardest to build special tunnels, tunnels that twirled, tunnels that looped, tunnels that were so ornately decorated that even the queen felt unworthy to travel in. They cut up leaves into the most beautiful designs they could. The best ant artisans were constantly employed in designing and arranging these leaves in a pleasing way. Still, they just felt that there was nothing they could do to express their gratitude, their love of the Great Voice, in full. But they kept trying and straining with all their might.
Meanwhile, the little boy continued to love the ants. He enjoyed all their work and wanted the best for them. Yet, he still wished that they would just relax and enjoy the world he gave to them. Nevertheless, he continued to watch over them, talk to them, tell them how much he loved and cared about them. And he knew deep down inside that in some way, the ants knew this, that love was being conveyed regardless of what was happening.
