Would the tadpole, undergoing transformation from pollywog to froglet to frog, be astonished at our changing world? The metamorphosis of the tadpole is probably quite unremarkable--to the tadpole.
A budding froglet, (Rana catesbeiana) giving me a suspicious glare. Is he aware that he is growing up in the wrong habitat?
Why is it those of us who find this so utterly fascinating, often struggling with external change, feel so nonchalant about our own metamorphosis?
"He had not pictured his father like this as he was standing there now; admittedly he had been too preoccupied of late with his newly discovered crawling to concern himself about what was going on in the household, and he really should have prepared himself for some changes. And yet, and yet could this indeed still be the father?
--Gregor Samsa (after casually transforming into a "monstrous vermin" and scaring the crap out of his family) in Kafka's Metamorphosis (p. 34)
Change happens. Life evolves, spreads itself, and kills other life. When it comes to extinction and adaptation, we--whether humans or frogs or mutated cockroaches--all have a hand (or some appendage) in the mix. The biggest difference is, we humans have a tendency to be more concerned with changes surrounding us than our own impact on the surroundings. We constantly comment on what is beautiful or what is grotesque, but we rarely admit that these are simply our perceptions.
This week's Ask a Science Blogger question asks if every species on the planet is equally deserving of protection. I could answer, but it would only reflect my perception of what is grotesque or what deserves protection. I can say this: I believe every thing, not just the living, is equal, in the sense that every thing must change. Our opinions about the fate of others are meaningless, except when they influence our actions--then it is our changing selves which are meaningful. So, why then, I'll ask again, do we obsess about the metamorphosis in everything but our own selves?
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