I killed a squirrel this morning.
Hurrying down a snaking two-lane back road in the early-morning fog on my way to work, the little grey furball darted out in front of me towards the double-yellow lines. No way I could've stopped in time, and no way I'm slamming on my breaks for a squirrel even if I could've. But I swerved to the right, in the direction it had come from, in order to at least try and miss it. But as soon as I swerved, the little guy noticed me coming, and darted back in the same direction I'd swerved, essentially running itself under my wheel. If I hadn't have swerved, I wouldn't have hit it.
I felt the bump, and I heard the da-thud-wump against my car's undercarriage as I ran over it. I looked in my rearview and saw its limp, lifeless, furry little body flopping down the road in my wake. I instantly felt like shit. And then I felt like an idiot for feeling like shit. I mean, it's just a squirrel. And I did what I could to try and avoid it.
But I just couldn't shake the feeling that I'd done something wrong. I'd ended a life. And we're not talking about an insect or an apple here. This was another mammal. I don't have any experience with that, so I don't know how to feel about it. But in my gut, in my Tao, it feels wrong.
No, it probably wasn't sentient; it probably wasn't aware like we are. But it was still a complex lifeform. And killing it didn't help me to survive in any way. I feel like it had every right to gather nuts, and chase lady-squirrels around tree trunks, and not get run over by some asshole who's late for work.
What's the Brightside? I don't know. I have no doubt that there is a lesson here, I just don't know what it is yet. I guess I will use this opportunity to practice acceptance. Acceptance of myself (I cannot be good or bad, I can only be Michael), acceptance that all things must end (All things that are, are Change), and acceptance that living means that sometimes the Universe is going to throw a squirrel under your wheels.
Sorry, Mr. Squirrel.
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