Outside In

'Hey Henry. Why don't you come out? It's a beautiful day, you're just wasting it sitting in there all alone.' The two Hermit crabs sat side by side in the sun on the white sandy beach. Henry was the Hermit crab who lived up to the name and chose to live a solitary, non-communicative life. Harry was the more outgoing type who could be found chatting to someone about anything most of the time. Harry sat on the sand fully extended making the most of the sunshine that warmed his crusty exoskeleton. The surf lapped over rhythmically in the background while a cluster seagulls engaged in a feeding frenzy; gorging on a large school of bait fish near the shore line.

The day was perfect by Harry's estimation and he was of firm mind that Henry should be out enjoying it. Harry continued his attempt to convince Henry to emerge, 'You know you're just wasting your life in there?'
'No I'm not.' Henry retorted. 'It's my life I can live it how I choose.' Today was not the first time Harry had tried to coerce Henry to leave his sanctum and be more outgoing. One night Harry had even managed to get Henry to accompany him to the Great Crab Ball where Henry proceeded to have the most awful night in history.

The punch at the Ball had made Henry feel sick and he wanted so desperately to purge the contents of his stomach, but all he could do was curse God for His lack of foresight in design by not predicting his need for a gag reflex. While Henry was busy thinking of ways to make himself puke, Harry was busy organising dances for Henry with all of the overweight lady crabs at the Ball. Harry had justified his strategy to Henry on the way to the venue that evening by explaining that 'Fat girls try harder, if you know what I mean.' Henry was not sure that he did know what Harry meant, but judging by the stupid grin on Harry’s face as he delivered his thoughts and the way he was elbowing Henry's shell, Henry guessed that whatever it was that fat girls tried harder at, was presumably meant to be pleasant.

However, dancing with obese crabs was not a pleasant experience for Henry. They had trodden on each one of his four dancing feet, bruising them badly. The girls seemed nice enough they smiled and giggled which was a little disconcerting as Henry had not actually spoken to them, so he wondered what they were finding to laugh about. He had of course assumed one of his feelers was off centre or one of his eyes were protruding unevenly. He simply shrugged multiple shoulders at their behaviour and refocused on his desperate need to spew and soak his aching feet. Needless to say, the Great Ball experience did nothing to entice Henry to reconsider his solitary life style. He was, none the less, grateful to Harry for at least making the effort to include him in what he assumed was considered to be "normal" activity.

Henry wasn't sure why he chose to be reclusive, he wasn't aware of any particular reason, he simply thought he just preferred his life that way. But Harry's insistence that Henry was wasting his life caused him to ponder his choice. Henry thought he was happy living alone, even though he wasn't really sure what happiness was, but he was certain that he was not unhappy. On the odd occasion when Henry did speak to others they would tell him stories of how they had been let down or deceived by other crabs in the cast. Hearing these stories made Henry sad, which had most likely contributed to his choice to withdraw from such contact. Now that Henry was thinking about it he realised that another reason for his eremiticism would most assuredly be that his previous experiences with conversation were akin to being engaged in a pointless struggle. Other crabs did not seem to share his interests in the suicidal tendencies of Lemmings or the self consuming aspects of Ribbon worms. They seemed more interested in the knockers on the Sandbar twins, or who lost a leg in a bad moult. Henry found no joy in being drawn into philistine confabulation that did little to stimulate his interest or imagination, he much preferred solitude and erudite avocations.

But Harry would not be dissuaded from his quest to see Henry out of his shell, he continued his persuasions with 'I just thought you might like to get some sunshine on those pins of yours. You must be going an awful pasty colour in there by now.'
His tone expressed caring and concern for Henry's welfare, a sentiment that did not go unnoticed by Henry. But that sentiment alone did not preclude Henry from beginning to feel the strain of the unwanted attention Harry was bestowing upon him. Harry continued, 'Besides, you must be getting awful lonely in there by now. It's not good to be alone you know? Us crabs we need company just like any one else.'

Henry felt the annoyance rising within him resulting in his unrestrainable reply 'Then why the fuck do they call us HERMIT CRABS Harry? Did you ever wonder about that? ... Buddy?' The use of the word 'buddy' was Henry's pièce de résistance and its meaning in this context was intended to juxtapose the traditional use of the word. Henry was hoping the sarcastic tone would convey the contempt and aggravation Henry was experiencing. Harry fell silent after the utterance of a barely audible 'Hmmm.'

The thought - he might leave now, crossed Henry’s mind followed immediately by the surprising idea that perhaps he should oblige Harry this once. After all, Harry did seem to have Henry's best interests at heart. Henry also got the distinct impression that Harry would be pleased to see Henry out of his home and it was occasionally personally edifying to martyr ones own happiness for another. There was also Henry's mounting regret for having yelled at his 'buddy' and his fanatical desire for harmony at any price, to consider.  All these factors combined, left Henry feeling there was only one logical choice; he would go outside to please Harry.  

For the rest of his life Harry would remember the moment that Henry emerged from his shell with surprise and horror. Harry had not believed his powers of persuasion could be so effective, or that his encounter with Henry would have such indelible results. The occasion had begun simply enough when Harry saw Henry sitting by himself as usual and had decided to play his favourite sport of 'Let’s See If The Old Bugger Will Come Out Today'.  The thought that Henry would in fact come out to socialise had not actually occurred to him.

After Henry had delivered his 'Buddy' remark Harry knew it was time to leave Henry be and move on. And then it happened …. Henry emerged. The day was indeed lovely, Harry recalls thinking 'Well at least he chose a nice day for it.' The sun was shining, the breeze was gentle and the seagulls were squarking happily in the background as seagulls do. Henry crept out of his shell, blinked in the sunlight and stretched his legs.

Perhaps it was the sudden movement, perhaps it was the flash of his pasty skin; Harry often wondered exactly what had triggered the final result but realised that he would never truly know why the seagull chose that moment to swoop down and pluck poor Henry from his shell and gobble him up before Henry could even say hello or goodbye for that matter.

Harry stood in disbelief of what he had just witnessed, mouth agape, then noticed some other friends near the rock pool where the Sandbar twins usually played. He headed off in that direction with the opening line of his imminent conversation forming in his head as he went - "You‘re never gonna believe what just happened"!


©  Janelle Salmon 2011
Acknowledgements: to Patrice - thanks for the assistance to clarify intent.

I Think I'm Feeling

'Is that really how you feel?' Asked the beautiful girl, in a tone that conveyed disbelief, as she sat upon the stone wall fence in the afternoon sun. The boy seated on the grass below her and to her left looked up and noticed briefly the way the sun shone on her cheeks, giving them perfect definition. Her wavy, light brown hair was being lifted gently away from her face by the slight breeze that frolicked across the meadow in which they sat. The word Angelic, audible only to himself, flashed by, then gone.

He returned his head to its downward position facing the ground and responded with conviction – 'Yes ... Yes that is how I feel and none of your rationalising will change my resolve.' Although his tone was adamant his body language did not support his verbal display of confidence. The boy sat propped against the fence with knees bent before him, feet flat on the ground, an elbow resting on each corresponding knee, forearms extended forward, fingers of both hands busy exploring every inch of a long grass stalk. A finer portrayal of dejection would be difficult to find.

The girl stared down at him for some time from her lofty position, then continued carefully 'I can't believe you feel that way. What stream of logic did you use to reach your conclusion?'

'Logic?' He spat the word from his mouth as if expelling rotten food. Then, visibly composed himself in order to continue the conversation more calmly. How did she always know how to rile him so? A deep sigh and then 'Logic alone cannot lead us to the answer of every problem. Sometimes we simply just need to feel our way to an answer.'

She smiled at him quizzically, knowing he could not see her doing so as his gaze seemed frozen to the ground in front of him. She would try once more to convince him to see it her way 'Feelings have no framework from which to pin reason, they blow around like leaves in the wind. Emotions are driven by the chemical blends that course through us, so how can you rely on them as a trusted method for choosing life direction?'

His body visibly slumped as if her counterpoint had struck a physical blow. He drew breath again and raised his head to stare straight forward out over the field in front of him. 'I can hear what you are saying and I understand your argument but I prefer to stay in touch with my emotions. Attachment to our feelings is, in my opinion, what makes us human.'

'But surely it is our intellect that separates us from other species.' She shot back at him. She needed no time to consider her point, she had obviously prepared this one earlier.

'No.' He stated definitively 'Knowledge without empathy is dangerous ground upon which to stand...'
'Well,' she interrupted 'I think when faced with a problem, we are capable of considerations broad enough to encompass all likely outcomes with due care, in our pursuit of a solution, thus relegating empathy subordinate to intellect.' The end of the statement was marked with a short sharp nod of her head. Her expression was one of self satisfaction, she was sure she was winning the debate.

He was aware that she was frustrating him now as he could feel his passion rising, leading him to irrational places. He found her calmness and cool approach unnerving. What was abundantly clear was that emotion played no part in her rationale. He was realising his inability to compete with an entity with no capacity to feel. Emotions cannot be experienced intellectually and therefore cannot be understood conventionally. Emotions can be explained but an explanation does not replace the experience of them. He remained silent as he thought these things.

Noticing his enthusiasm for the topic ebbing, she decided a different tack may be required. She had one final point to make and then she would be done. She was hoping to persuade him back into the conversation by requesting of him a practical example of where the application of emotional remedies to everyday situations superseded the functionality of applying reasoning to the situation. She asked 'What was the last purely emotive choice you made in a moment of dilemma that gave rise to a positive conclusion?'

He could feel his confidence returning immediately. He had her now, she has slipped and had given him the advantage, like the opponent fighting the hero in the swash buckling sword fighting movies he used to watch on a Saturday afternoon as a boy. He would hold the blade against her throat and she would feel... oh yes she would feel then.  He had just the example he needed and she would have no chance of understanding it because it involved the one emotion that could not possibly be understood. Volume upon volume had been written on the subject. Writers of novels, songs and movies are obsessed by it. He took a deep breath and turned to face her, he wanted to see the look on her face as he delivered his answer that was intended to wound. 'When I decided to let love in.'

She could tell from his demeanor that he had played his last card and was convinced it would trump any remaining effort she had left. She knew before she opened her mouth that she was about to embark on a tirade that could damage their friendship, but there was no way of stopping herself from pointing out such a glaring fault in his logic and so she began. 'Love is an ill defined concept. If you were to dissect love into its components, you would discover it was made up of definable feelings that are commonly grouped together and labeled as love.' She was unstoppable even when she saw his face turning back to the ground from where it had begun and his shoulders slumping in total defeat. She continued as if programmed to deliver the death blow with no concern for the outcome. 'Love as an entity, in and of itself is a misnomer. You may think you are in love but really what you are experiencing is joy, acceptance, belonging, sensuality etc, all rolled into one emotion we like to call love. Love doesn't really exist.'

She was satisfied with her conclusion but it was a hollow defeat, his sadness somehow affected her but she could not understand how. There was silence and then a quiet male voice 'I will never be able to make you understand how anything feels so there is no point in continuing this discussion.' She nodded in agreement, jumped down from the fence bent over, kissed him on the cheek then said 'You just don't make sense to me.' With that she took his hand in hers helped him to his feet and they walked off hand in hand together across the field and out of sight.

“We're constructed from the same design. With a heart that makes no sense to the mind.”
Sparkadia – China.