How would your life be different if you were incapable of feeling fear? Would your life be better or worse than it is now?
Imagine being a fly, just a normal average fly. Even their children are despised and hated by the human race. How can a fly mother love something, so white, shiny and squirming, so absolutely disgusting. If you have ever squashed a pregnant fly you know what I am talking about. OK, there is safety in numbers, they appear in hundreds. It is no wonder that mummy fly leaves them to find their own way after they hatch. There is no love between the fly families. Mummy fly flies off and does her own thing, might even meet another daddy fly, sits on a surface with him for an hour or so (that is true love) and life goes on. I am not an expert on flies. I wonder if they have more fear from us than we from them. They are so numerous, and my theory is they are born to be killed. I know this is very mean and no-one is born to be killed, whether animal or human, but tell that to the terrorists.
As I do not want to have a political blog, we all have our own opinions, I wonder how a fly’s life would be different if they could not feel fear. I honestly believe they do not feel fear, otherwise there would not be one circulating around my laptop now, glad to take a fly walk across my terminal. There he is, poised at the top of “Document1 – Microsoft Word”, wondering whether to call his friend over to enjoy the trip across my screen, but no fly No. 2 decided that perching on the mouse gives a better view on life. I now have a real collection of fly photos whilst writing my prize suspicious blogs. Where I go, the camera is always near.
If these flies were slugs, I would not be happy: a slug crawling over the computer, leaving a trial of sticky white transparent whatever in its path.; no thank you. We have a bout of wet weather at the moment. It has only rained once since yesterday, but without pause, constantly. This morning on a garden inspection I saw them approaching, a complete army of slugs, slowly but surely sliming their way to my prize herbs and flowers, munching on their way. I hate them and there was a time when I uttered the word “Ugh” and stood powerless against this invasion. Today, this is not the case. One day I took my courage in my hands fingers, plucked its slimy wet sticky body off a basil leaf and wanting to bring this experience behind me, feeling like a batter in a baseball team, threw the slug as far as possible. They move slowly, so it is a narrow chance that he would find the way back to my garden. I overcame my fear of snails, leaving me with the problem of washing my hands afterwards. Up to now there is no soap or liquid that rids the fingers of snail slime with one wash.
Being a golden oldie (have I said that before), I have been around long enough to take things as they come. I have fallen twice and broken my arm in two different places, I have had a few organs removed from my body and survived. There are a few interesting scars left from various fearless attempts to overcome obstacles. Even arising in the morning after a night’s sleep is a conquest. Will I succeed or not? The first steps to the bathroom are on wobbly legs, but I arrive, holding onto the wall or a cupboard as I go. Everything is strategically placed in my living quarters. Eventually I find a comfortable chair in the kitchen, the scene set with a computer (still covered in milk stains from cereal), and my cup of tea and breakfast at the side. The next obstacle to overcome is rising from the chair. I tend to have a back twinge lately which hems this action, but it can only get better. By the time they let me out to go shopping all limbs seem to be working and I always have Mr. Swiss at my side – something like Roy Rogers and Trigger – to help me on my way.
Drawing to a conclusion, it makes no difference if I feel fear or not. I just bite on my lip, hold my breath and hope for the best. We have a good health system in Switzerland and the hospital is near. They look after you well after the operation and it is all covered by the monthly insurance we pay. What could possibly go wrong?