Ignorance© One day a small seven-year-old girl was playing with her skipping rope outside the front door to her home, when she saw a mound of powdery earth between the paving cracks. A couple of ants were busying themselves around the pile. Squatting above the mound, with a flick of her fingernail, she pushed some grains of earth into the hole at the centre of the mound to see how the ants would react. More ants came out of the opening to investigate. The tiny insects seemed faintly annoyed because they were more lively than the previous workers and were running around, appearing to assess the damage. In the girl’s mind, the ants seemed to understand that a misfortune had taken place. Vaguely, the girl wondered how, with the slightest movement of her finger, she could cause such difficulty for the ants. A few more of the black insects pushed their way out of the collapsed entrance and ran around on the paving stones. They shoved the grains of sand to clear the debris from the entrance hole. The little girl’s feelings of curiosity deepened. “Ah ha!” though her seven-year-old mind, “Look what I have made the ants do! I am so big and these ants are so small. I have great power over the situation. Subconsciously, she experienced a sense of evil ignorance that rose up inside her as a feeling of supremacy and mercilessness. She did not recognise the emotion for what it truly was and decided to explore all the possibilities of this new, fun game. I bet I can make more ants come out the hole! I can really make them run fast. I could really upset them and make them mad! I can do this, because ants mean nothing to me. They are just little black insects in the earth. I can test my power and control over these helpless creatures and they can’t disapprove!” Relishing the reactions of the tiny ants, and using her comparatively huge size and destructive capability, she lifted her foot and stamped heavily on the pile of dirt. The paving stones either side vibrated with the impact. The girl bent down to see the results of her action. The pile of dirt was flattened and several small corpses lay squashed amongst the dirt. They didn’t run crazily around any more. Occasionally one of the small, squashed, black shapes wriggled a feeler, but mostly the insects were glued to the stone floor by their bodily fluids. Suddenly, with a burst of strength, the central hole was forced open, and hundreds of ants came gushing out from the hole. Some ran crazily from one squashed body to the next, sensing their dead companions with their feelers and grabbing the carcasses between their jaws. The damaged corpses were picked up and dragged back down the hole by the living ants. The girl was motivated by a new wave of cruelty and power. What if she killed the rescuers? Who would rescue them? For her, this was a different situation than she had ever experienced before. At home, she obeyed her parents and tolerated her naughty brothers. At school, she had to do as she was told or she would get into trouble. But standing over this ant hill, she was all-powerful. The ants could do nothing to stop her. She was indeed in control of the power of life and death. The child failed to recognise the truth of this cruel animalistic curiosity. She stamped heavily on the ground and stepped back to watch the show. Thousands of ants came rushing from the burrow. Didn’t they know how stupid they were to keep coming out of the hole? Why didn’t they stay inside where it was safe? They would get killed too! She stamped again and again with delight. Crazily, the insects raced around with helpless futility. The girl’s killing spree was not over. “I’ll kill every one!” she thought. Treading the steps of a fanatical dance, she jumped, trampled, crushed and killed every moving ant. At the end of the rampage, thousands of black dots littered an area of several paving stones around the ant hill. Nothing moved. No more ants came out the hole. Satisfied that the job was done, she picked up her skipping rope and moved away from the area of destruction to continued with her rope jumping games. “After all,” she thought, “they’re only tiny insignificant ants!” However, as she skipped, a sense of guilt filled her awareness. Should she really have destroyed the ant nest? Would her mother disapprove of her actions? Then she consoled herself not to worry. There were loads of ants nests in the garden and they were a pest in the house. Probably in the garden and the whole world, there were millions of ants. What did it matter if a few thousand died? Finally becoming bored with the skipping, the girl returned to the house and walking into the front room, found her parents glued to the television. “What’s the matter?” she asked the adults. “There’s been a terrible earthquake in the Middle East. Thousands of people have been killed, ” replied her father. Gently, he pulled his daughter to his lap, and she nestled between his arms to watch the news. Before her eyes, buildings crumbled into dust. She watched a woman pulled out of the rubble, badly wounded but still breathing. A small child wandered lost in the streets. People seemed helpless, sitting stunned on piles of rubble not knowing what to do. Women weep for their loved ones. An exhausted young man scrambled helplessly over the ruins, tugging at the stones of a collapsed building with his bare hands. The girl remembered her experience of stamping on the ant’s nest. “Dad, do you think that if you jump on an ant hole, this is how they feel?” she probed. “No, I shouldn’t think so,” he replied. “They are only ants. Insects don’t have human feelings.” The girl felt a little better. After all, if her Dad said there was nothing wrong with killing ants what harm could there be? Still, however, she could not shake the image of all those dead ants squashed on the paving slabs. “Those poor people!” her mother commented in sympathy, “You know, when you see something like this, it makes you wonder whether there really is a God or not. After all, if he does exist, then why doesn’t He prevent all this suffering? How could He let this kind of thing happen?” “Who knows?” replied her father with a disinterested shrug, “No one can prevent earthquakes.” The little girl thought about her ants. She was a bit like an earthquake to the ants, but unlike the God her mother talked about, she could have prevented their destruction. If only she had stopped and decided not to kill them. Why did she have to go on killing and killing? Why did she do that? Taking a vow, she decided to never to commit such a senseless act again and this made her feel a lot better. At least she could make sure that she would not make the same mistake again, and if she never deliberately killed ants again, then maybe God would take notice...?

3.The Seagull©
4.Ignorance©

Ignorance©

One day a small seven-year-old girl was playing with her skipping rope outside the front door to her home, when she saw a mound of powdery earth between the paving cracks. A couple of ants were busying themselves around the pile. Squatting above the mound, with a flick of her fingernail, she pushed some grains of earth into the hole at the centre of the mound to see how the ants would react. More ants came out of the opening to investigate. The tiny insects seemed faintly annoyed because they were more lively than the previous workers and were running around, appearing to assess the damage. In the girl’s mind, the ants seemed to understand that a misfortune had taken place. Vaguely, the girl wondered how, with the slightest movement of her finger, she could cause such difficulty for the ants. A few more of the black insects pushed their way out of the collapsed entrance and ran around on the paving stones. They shoved the grains of sand to clear the debris from the entrance hole. The little girl’s feelings of curiosity deepened.

“Ah ha!” though her seven-year-old mind, “Look what I have made the ants do! I am so big and these ants are so small. I have great power over the situation. Subconsciously, she experienced a sense of evil ignorance that rose up inside her as a feeling of supremacy and mercilessness. She did not recognise the emotion for what it truly was and decided to explore all the possibilities of this new, fun game. I bet I can make more ants come out the hole! I can really make them run fast. I could really upset them and make them mad! I can do this, because ants mean nothing to me. They are just little black insects in the earth. I can test my power and control over these helpless creatures and they can’t disapprove!”

Relishing the reactions of the tiny ants, and using her comparatively huge size and destructive capability, she lifted her foot and stamped heavily on the pile of dirt. The paving stones either side vibrated with the impact. The girl bent down to see the results of her action. The pile of dirt was flattened and several small corpses lay squashed amongst the dirt. They didn’t run crazily around any more. Occasionally one of the small, squashed, black shapes wriggled a feeler, but mostly the insects were glued to the stone floor by their bodily fluids. Suddenly, with a burst of strength, the central hole was forced open, and hundreds of ants came gushing out from the hole. Some ran crazily from one squashed body to the next, sensing their dead companions with their feelers and grabbing the carcasses between their jaws. The damaged corpses were picked up and dragged back down the hole by the living ants.

The girl was motivated by a new wave of cruelty and power. What if she killed the rescuers? Who would rescue them?

For her, this was a different situation than she had ever experienced before. At home, she obeyed her parents and tolerated her naughty brothers. At school, she had to do as she was told or she would get into trouble. But standing over this ant hill, she was all-powerful. The ants could do nothing to stop her. She was indeed in control of the power of life and death. The child failed to recognise the truth of this cruel animalistic curiosity.

She stamped heavily on the ground and stepped back to watch the show. Thousands of ants came rushing from the burrow. Didn’t they know how stupid they were to keep coming out of the hole? Why didn’t they stay inside where it was safe? They would get killed too! She stamped again and again with delight. Crazily, the insects raced around with helpless futility. The girl’s killing spree was not over.

“I’ll kill every one!” she thought.

Treading the steps of a fanatical dance, she jumped, trampled, crushed and killed every moving ant. At the end of the rampage, thousands of black dots littered an area of several paving stones around the ant hill. Nothing moved. No more ants came out the hole. Satisfied that the job was done, she picked up her skipping rope and moved away from the area of destruction to continued with her rope jumping games.

“After all,” she thought, “they’re only tiny insignificant ants!”

However, as she skipped, a sense of guilt filled her awareness. Should she really have destroyed the ant nest? Would her mother disapprove of her actions? Then she consoled herself not to worry. There were loads of ants nests in the garden and they were a pest in the house. Probably in the garden and the whole world, there were millions of ants. What did it matter if a few thousand died?

Finally becoming bored with the skipping, the girl returned to the house and walking into the front room, found her parents glued to the television.

“What’s the matter?” she asked the adults.

“There’s been a terrible earthquake in the Middle East. Thousands of people have been killed, ” replied her father.

Gently, he pulled his daughter to his lap, and she nestled between his arms to watch the news. Before her eyes, buildings crumbled into dust. She watched a woman pulled out of the rubble, badly wounded but still breathing. A small child wandered lost in the streets. People seemed helpless, sitting stunned on piles of rubble not knowing what to do. Women weep for their loved ones. An exhausted young man scrambled helplessly over the ruins, tugging at the stones of a collapsed building with his bare hands.

The girl remembered her experience of stamping on the ant’s nest.

“Dad, do you think that if you jump on an ant hole, this is how they feel?” she probed.

“No, I shouldn’t think so,” he replied. “They are only ants. Insects don’t have human feelings.”

The girl felt a little better. After all, if her Dad said there was nothing wrong with killing ants what harm could there be? Still, however, she could not shake the image of all those dead ants squashed on the paving slabs.

“Those poor people!” her mother commented in sympathy, “You know, when you see something like this, it makes you wonder whether there really is a God or not. After all, if he does exist, then why doesn’t He prevent all this suffering? How could He let this kind of thing happen?”

“Who knows?” replied her father with a disinterested shrug, “No one can prevent earthquakes.”

The little girl thought about her ants. She was a bit like an earthquake to the ants, but unlike the God her mother talked about, she could have prevented their destruction. If only she had stopped and decided not to kill them. Why did she have to go on killing and killing? Why did she do that? Taking a vow, she decided to never to commit such a senseless act again and this made her feel a lot better. At least she could make sure that she would not make the same mistake again, and if she never deliberately killed ants again, then maybe God would take notice...?