The Bird. The Ant. The Rat.
The word “ahimsa” is derived from Sanskrit, translates to "nonviolence" and embodies a broader philosophy of compassion and respect for all living beings. It is, in a sense, a state of mind. Recently, a few things happened that made me think of “ahimsa” and the general concept of empathy married to action and of empathetic acts being typical or atypical in a society.
First, my significant other and I were out walking along a river and he saw a bird had somehow gotten into the water and was struggling to get out, unable to swim. He plucked her out and she sat there, soggy and waterlogged, too heavy to fly. We called animal rescue and they instructed us to keep her warm overnight so she could dry out and, hopefully, fly again the morning. I went into a nearby civic center and asked a man who was locking up there if he had a box or bag I could use, explaining what had happened. He jumped to my aid and got a bag and then came out to have a look. He picked up the wet bird and started drying her with a handkerchief from his pocket, saying, "Alright, Budgie, you'll be alright then." The bird started vomiting up river water and he calmly dried and comforted her and then put her in the bag for us. We took her home and gave her food and water and put her in a warm room. I asked if anyone knew what to do or had advice on a WhatsApp group of the building I live in there. Nobody did. The next morning, the bird was dry and happy. We took her outside and she shook off and flew away. The best part of this, though, is that my post in the WhatsApp got people thinking. Over the next weeks I received DMs from other residents who found birds in distress and was able to direct them to the animal rescue folks. I was amazed and delighted by how many people were stopping to help injured or trapped birds they saw. All they had needed was an answer to the question "What to do?" or an obvious person to contact for assistance. Once they had it, they felt empowered to help and they did.
Some weeks later, I was sitting on the stone ledge of an oceanside rock pool with some others. A little black ant crawled onto my hand and I unthinkingly pursed my lips and blew at her, making her fly through the air off my hand and right into the water. She was so small, she vanished in the moving water but I started sifting my hands through the water where she’d fallen in and, luckily, I found her and removed her, alive and kicking, and placed her on a rock. She promptly marched back onto my hand, making me laugh. Another person there was like, “What did you just do?” I explained I’d inadvertently made the ant fall into the pool so I rescued her. Almost entirely nonplussed, he said, “But why do you care?” I was equally surprised, responding, “Why do you not?”
A few days later, on my way to get groceries, I saw people literally jumping away from a young woman who was bending over something on the sidewalk. The woman was clearly distressed by what she was seeing and asking for help. Nobody was helping. To the contrary, they were moving as far away as possible. When I got closer, I saw the young woman was trying to help a small silver rat, who was lying on his side, breathing heavily and obviously injured. I asked her what had happened and she said she thought the animal had been hit by a car and wanted to help but didn’t know what to do. I asked her if she lived nearby and she said she did so I asked her if she would mind grabbing a shoebox and some water and we could try to get the rat, who I named Ahimsa in my head, into the box and I’d take him to animal rescue. She agreed enthusiastically, left and soon returned with a shoebox, gloves and water. We didn’t want to cause further injury so moving Ahimsa was a slow, painstaking process. At first, we were afraid he might try to bite us out of fear or pain, however, it was like he knew we were trying to help and he watched us with sparkly black eyes and was very calm throughout. As we worked, a few passersby made pejorative comments and sounds, which we ignored. Once we had Ahimsa in the box, we gave him some water, which he drank. Throughout, the young woman spoke softly and kindly to the injured animal and she clearly genuinely cared about his well-being, despite all of society’s teachings about how rats are dirty and disgusting (they’re actually very clean animals in terms of their personal hygiene – cleaner than many dogs and cats - and also hyper intelligent).
I took Ahimsa to animal rescue and a new wrinkle emerged. The rescue said they didn’t think they could take rats. I burst into tears and begged them to take him. They finally told me they could euthanize him but they couldn’t diagnose or treat him, however, they could promise the euthanasia would be “dignified” and painless. It was during this conversation that Ahimsa died. He gave a little sigh and a shudder, stopped breathing and his bright sparkly eyes fogged over. I’m still weeping for him. He was beautiful and I wish we could have saved him. I know so many people who read this will not understand, however, I also know that some of you will and, to you – the people like the young woman who first found Ahimsa and stayed by him, trying to help when no one else would – I am so grateful for you. So happy to be in a world where you exist and you shine your lights of kindness to anyone and everyone, no matter how small they may seem.
The word “ahimsa” is derived from Sanskrit, translates to "nonviolence" and embodies a broader philosophy of compassion and respect for all living beings. It is, in a sense, a state of mind. Recently, a few things happened that made me think of “ahimsa” and the general concept of empathy married to action and of empathetic acts being typical or atypical in a society.
First, my significant other and I were out walking along a river and he saw a bird had somehow gotten into the water and was struggling to get out, unable to swim. He plucked her out and she sat there, soggy and waterlogged, too heavy to fly. We called animal rescue and they instructed us to keep her warm overnight so she could dry out and, hopefully, fly again the morning. I went into a nearby civic center and asked a man who was locking up there if he had a box or bag I could use, explaining what had happened. He jumped to my aid and got a bag and then came out to have a look. He picked up the wet bird and started drying her with a handkerchief from his pocket, saying, "Alright, Budgie, you'll be alright then." The bird started vomiting up river water and he calmly dried and comforted her and then put her in the bag for us. We took her home and gave her food and water and put her in a warm room. I asked if anyone knew what to do or had advice on a WhatsApp group of the building I live in there. Nobody did. The next morning, the bird was dry and happy. We took her outside and she shook off and flew away. The best part of this, though, is that my post in the WhatsApp got people thinking. Over the next weeks I received DMs from other residents who found birds in distress and was able to direct them to the animal rescue folks. I was amazed and delighted by how many people were stopping to help injured or trapped birds they saw. All they had needed was an answer to the question "What to do?" or an obvious person to contact for assistance. Once they had it, they felt empowered to help and they did.
Some weeks later, I was sitting on the stone ledge of an oceanside rock pool with some others. A little black ant crawled onto my hand and I unthinkingly pursed my lips and blew at her, making her fly through the air off my hand and right into the water. She was so small, she vanished in the moving water but I started sifting my hands through the water where she’d fallen in and, luckily, I found her and removed her, alive and kicking, and placed her on a rock. She promptly marched back onto my hand, making me laugh. Another person there was like, “What did you just do?” I explained I’d inadvertently made the ant fall into the pool so I rescued her. Almost entirely nonplussed, he said, “But why do you care?” I was equally surprised, responding, “Why do you not?”
A few days later, on my way to get groceries, I saw people literally jumping away from a young woman who was bending over something on the sidewalk. The woman was clearly distressed by what she was seeing and asking for help. Nobody was helping. To the contrary, they were moving as far away as possible. When I got closer, I saw the young woman was trying to help a small silver rat, who was lying on his side, breathing heavily and obviously injured. I asked her what had happened and she said she thought the animal had been hit by a car and wanted to help but didn’t know what to do. I asked her if she lived nearby and she said she did so I asked her if she would mind grabbing a shoebox and some water and we could try to get the rat, who I named Ahimsa in my head, into the box and I’d take him to animal rescue. She agreed enthusiastically, left and soon returned with a shoebox, gloves and water. We didn’t want to cause further injury so moving Ahimsa was a slow, painstaking process. At first, we were afraid he might try to bite us out of fear or pain, however, it was like he knew we were trying to help and he watched us with sparkly black eyes and was very calm throughout. As we worked, a few passersby made pejorative comments and sounds, which we ignored. Once we had Ahimsa in the box, we gave him some water, which he drank. Throughout, the young woman spoke softly and kindly to the injured animal and she clearly genuinely cared about his well-being, despite all of society’s teachings about how rats are dirty and disgusting (they’re actually very clean animals in terms of their personal hygiene – cleaner than many dogs and cats - and also hyper intelligent).
I took Ahimsa to animal rescue and a new wrinkle emerged. The rescue said they didn’t think they could take rats. I burst into tears and begged them to take him. They finally told me they could euthanize him but they couldn’t diagnose or treat him, however, they could promise the euthanasia would be “dignified” and painless. It was during this conversation that Ahimsa died. He gave a little sigh and a shudder, stopped breathing and his bright sparkly eyes fogged over. I’m still weeping for him. He was beautiful and I wish we could have saved him. I know so many people who read this will not understand, however, I also know that some of you will and, to you – the people like the young woman who first found Ahimsa and stayed by him, trying to help when no one else would – I am so grateful for you. So happy to be in a world where you exist and you shine your lights of kindness to anyone and everyone, no matter how small they may seem.
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