Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Little Black Worms…Little Green Men
The portions of this from the human standpoint are factual. I cannot verify the worms’ reactions.
Ever since I was a kid, I relished the idea of making contact with beings from other worlds. I reveled in the stories of those who had seen “UFO’s.” I stayed up late at night to listen to people who gave accounts of their contacts with Space Aliens. Of course, I’ve never seen an alien craft. By definition, I’ve seen lots of photos. Most of them can be explained, (Once explained, they are no longer “Unidentified Flying Objects.” They are identified.) Swamp gas, airplanes, other natural phenomena, and just plain hoaxes.
As to those who claim to have been in contact with aliens, I’ve heard many of them speak. (Not the aliens…the abductees!) Most are obvious phonies looking for a few moments of notoriety. But are they all?
And there are many who claim to have seen Sasquatch, or his many equally elusive counterparts. Maybe some are telling the truth. I don’t know. I DO know I’ve never seen one. I also know that having a Sasquatch, or a Loch Ness Monster or remnants of crashed UFO’s can really be a boon to the local economy. After all, if it wasn’t for little green men or giant sea serpents, or hairy humanoids living in the mountains of Tibet, why would anyone go to a small desert town in the middle of New Mexico or a remote lake in Scotland, or climb a dangerous Himalayan Mountain?
So I have a healthy skepticism, especially about those who claim to have had dialogue with, and been beamed aboard, alien space craft. Yet…there are a few that have a ring of truth about them. (But sincere and honest people often have delusional episodes which they believe.) Maybe it’s just so rare that we come into contact with little green men, or gigantic lizards or intelligent Yeti types living in the snow. Even if we did have the experience, who among us would be willing to share it, and suffer the attendant ridicule and disbelief?
Whenever we get a spell of wet weather, my house is invaded by one or more tiny black inchworms. They are harmless little creatures to be sure. But I must admit I don’t like sharing my home with non-domesticated animals.
So when, a while back, I spotted a single specimen making it’s way along my kitchen floor, my first thought was to evict it. I gently picked “him” up in a piece of tissue (O.K..”him” is an arbitrary gender assignment…I don’t know how one tells the sex of an inchworm!) then conveyed him to the front door and deposited him in a flower bed. At worst, he would provide a snack for a bird or squirrel. But maybe he’d wander around until he met up with the friends ands family which comprised inchworm society.
Upon Joe’s (I think male inchworms are all named ‘Joe.) arrival at the muddy plot, the inchworm president asked. “Where have you been? Were worried about you.”
“I visited a huge structure in which resided immense giants. You know, the kind we speak about in our myths and folklore. But now I know it’s real. One of them touched me.”
“Joe, that’s just superstition. No one has ever seen such things. Have you been eating lotus leaves?”
“No, no. Really it’s true. This colossal beast actually picked me high up. I thought it was going to eat me, but it wrapped me in a blanket and put me outside of it’s home.”
“Joe, Joe, Joe! You are delusional. Things like that don’t happen. It’s all fantasy. The fact that this imaginary giant set you free is in itself absurd enough to refute your story.”
Other members of the group began to chime in. “Such creatures have been talked about for generations. Most don’t believe they exist. The few worms who make up experiences like this have been totally discredited. How do you account for the fact that no one else here has ever seen these gigantic structures, let alone the behemoths you claim live there?”
“We live on a huge planet,” Joe responded. “We worms move just a few feet a year. Doesn’t it seem logical that very few inchworms would ever come into contact with such wondrous things? I can describe the interior of these cavernous buildings; The floors are varied from shiny stone to some kind of multicolored indoor grass, and….”
“Enough! Enough of this nonsense Joe! You are inflaming our most nonsensical and fanciful insecurities and superstitions…and you are frightening our children with your preposterous and discredited claims. One more word of this, and I’ll have you committed!”
Joe never spoke of this encounter again. After a while, even he began to believe that perhaps it had all been in his mind…a figment of an overactive imagination.
I wonder if there might be real Sasquatch sighters, or actual viewers of the Loch Ness Monster, or even those who have, in fact, been beamed up to flying saucers by alien beings for experiments. Might they be reluctant to tell their stories for fear of societal rejection or public ridicule? I wish, though, that I could have one of those extraterrestrial experiences…But if I did, I’m not sure I’d risk telling my story. I wonder if anyone would believe me. And I doubt, whether upon hearing this from another person, I’d believe it.
The inchworm’s tiny world was too limited and it’s experience too rare to give credence to poor Joe. Might our human world be too limited our human experience too rare to recognize beings and civilizations other than those found in everyday life? Are we missing something? Most of those inchworms had never seen a human. Their vision is limited to a few feet ahead and a couple of inches off the ground. What would the chances be that they would ever see, let alone recognize a human or a man made structure? No wonder they almost put poor Joe in an inchworm loony bin. Could we humans have limitations that prevent us from seeing what might be all around us? Is it possible that a few of us have stumbled upon alien or earthly beings that the maority believes are delusions? Who would have the courage to talk about it? What if one out of a thousand people who claim to have been taken by aliens is NOT lying? Of course, I don’t know.
Neither does anyone except those few.
That’s all for now. I’m off to Roswell.
Bob Meyerson, February, 2016