An Ode to Cicadas and to Tolerance
To date, this presidential election’s spotlights have included an initial debate in which one party’s candidate fumbled through the English language on a quest to best his opponent. That quest failed, yet for a time the standing president vehemently insisted that he’d carry on. Subsequently, the other candidate was shot through the ear at a rally.
Mr. Trump is not getting younger, and even a slight wound — at his age — has to take a toll. But, just like Biden after their debate, he’s showing dogged determination in his resolve. The latest development is that the president changed his mind. Joseph R. Biden, age 81, has dropped out running for re-election. He endorsed VP Kamala Harris: different face, same values and allegiances.
During an election year, the tensions between the sides of the great political divide escalate. It was refreshing then, after the assassination attempt on Trump, to see representatives from both of the nation’s leading factions decry political violence. Such outrage, it could be argued, should be the reaction to violence (once again perpetrated by legions from both parties) witnessed in our country on a daily basis.
As things are, we should be grateful there are a few things we all can agree on. When our state or federal leaders see the dangers of social media on the youth’s emotional health, the harm AI could have in manipulating images of children and generating pornographic deepfakes, or the good that can come from offering educational resources and food aid to developing countries — they concede what are often universally accepted morals. In some precious few cases (not all), we can agree that good is still good, and evil, evil.
While the summer heat ramps up, and the social climate of the great American melting pot comes to boil, we’ve been blessed with a few pleasant distractions. I’ve loved following the cicada emergence of broods XIII XIX here in the Midwest. They were all over the property my fiancee and I recently bought. By 4th of July, though, I heard no more from them. But now, here and there among the treetops, you can listen to the shrill singing of the larger, green variety that have appeared, though in smaller quantities.
The cicada sensationalism that swept parts of the nation provided some well-deserved escape from this year’s election, the insane prices on the housing market, and the remaining moral depravity of our nation’s character. There’s something calming about basking in nature, taking it all in. It was exciting to go outside into the hissing air, alive with swarms of the now-legendary insect, to witness their life cycle, hunt for their sloughed-off exoskeletons, and gaze at their beady, red eyes and glistening, transparent wing membranes.
The natural world, because of its beauty, can attract anyone’s attention and cultivate the admiration of all regardless of political associations. Nature also displays an inherent order detected throughout our universe. The buzzing, budding landscapes that nature provides offer us — as Americans and as human beings — some common ground on which political opponents can set politics aside, enjoy our shared environment, and enjoy each other.
Nature offers us order, a thing we all crave at some level. Part of that natural order shows us that elements and organisms follow certain patterns and that the individual organs within those organisms have specific functions. A cicada, for instance, will burrow up from the ground, cling to a solid object, push its way out of its exoskeleton, and rest and dry off before it takes flight.
Life is hard, and it takes effort to live well, no doubt! But there’s more. After cicadas mate, they die: the males after the deed is done, the females after the eggs are laid. They return to the dust.
Is that harsh? Maybe to our sensibilities. But it illustrates the acceptance of fate, the participation in the natural order of things. Cicadas have a set lifespan with set goals. They must accept their fate. They have no more choice in the matter than sunflowers do in following the law of heliotropism or bees in seeking out nectar and pollen or my heart when it beats its average bpm while I am at rest, sitting here writing.
As rational organisms, we’re a bit different than cicadas. We can work to change the status quo. That can be a help or a hindrance. It’s this ability that gave humans the agency to establish slavery; it’s this same ability that later allowed people to speak up against it and work for change. That’s just one example, but the point is we get to choose. There’s a difference between us and cicadas. We can choose to do good or evil. We can rebel against who we are and turn on members of our own race, as in the example of slavery and, as a case may be made, in our present political climate.
We could learn something from nature, from its order, and from the acceptance that each creature has in doing what it is meant to do. We need to learn to hold all things lightly, or else we will find ourselves always seeking control, manipulating, belittling, and attacking. Temperance and tolerance, if we might adopt them, would take us far.
Yes, let’s try to mend the broken things we witness around us. But let’s tolerate the people around us and understand that they likely won’t change. We should accept that and accept them too. Maybe we could look at ourselves, recognize there’s mending we need to do in our own lives, and start there. We need to learn to let go of ourselves and our desire to control, micromanage, and be in charge. We need, as an old serenity prayer observes, to accept the things we cannot change, have courage to change things we can, and know the difference between the two.