The sun was nearly up over beautiful Windermere Island off Elethuera, The Bahamas. I was perched on the end of a beach chair sliding on sandy flip flops after a morning walk when I happened to look down and noticed that the sand was an amazing, wonderful mosaic of interesting marks and lines. Small troughs and trails of varying thickness were outlined on either side with interlocking chains of small pockmarks resembling tiny bulldozer tracks. A closer look at this sandy crazy-quilt revealed it was alive with small shells – each perched atop the back of a tiny red crab. (I subsequently learned these were called soldier crabs.) Each was purposefully moving from here to there on a mission that only that little creature seemed to know or care about.
It was fascinating to watch. Each time an obstacle, such a random bit of beach flora (a grander term than seaweed) or the indentation from a footprint, created a barrier to be navigated, the crab would turn itself (remaining gender neutral here since I have no idea how to tell a boy crab from a girl crab) around and PUSH the shell over the bump rather than pull it. Hmmm….maybe I should pay more attention here.
The more I watched, the more I saw. There were crabs of all sizes busily going about their crabby lives. Cleverly extrapolated, on my part, from the portion of the crab that I could see sticking out from under the shell, they ranged from about the size of a dime to that of a quarter (when you are in residence on one of the out islands of the Bahamas, where they don’t take credit cards, you think about money a lot). I assumed that would account from the different thickness of the lines that criss-crossed the sandy expanse in front of me.
But, a closer look revealed that it was actually the size of the SHELL, not the crab,that determined the trail that was left in the sand. Some crabs had small round shells atop their backs that hardly even touched the ground. Others had chosen large cone-shaped homes that dragged along behind.
Then, two crabs (both approximately nickel-size) scooted into view, one carrying a small round shell (henceforth known as RS Crab), the other dragging the larger cone-shaped shell (CS Crab). I watched in awe as RS Crab literally lapped CS Crab as they worked their way across the beach. I don’t mean that RS Crab merely moved faster. It SCAMPERED compared to CS Crab. The small round shell didn’t even scrape the sand. So, when RS Crab got to an obstacle, there was no need to do the push/pull thing. It just kept trucking. Conversely, CS Crab was investing all sorts of energy just to move its big shell house – pushing and pulling and making trough-like trenches in the famous Eluetheran pink sand. The larger the shell, the deeper and wider the trail and the more slowly the crab moved toward its chosen destination.
A light bulb began to glimmer in my sun-soaked (and a tad rum-soaked) brain. (Hey – I was on vacation in the BAHAMAS!) How many times have we tried to solve a problem or complete a task using the same old, “I’ve always done it that way” mentality? Are we pulling so hard that we don’t have time to think that maybe pushing would be a more efficient solution? Do we allow our stubborn brains, who like comfort and consistency, to be willfully blind to other possible solutions? Are we so afraid of failure that we can’t take a chance on success?
But then the larger lesson emerged from my early morning brain fog. Each little soldier crab is given the freedom to CHOOSE his or her own shell. Some chose shells that were easily carried – small and simple, without any bells and whistles. Some chose large, fancy shells that, despite the assumed perks they provided (I’ve never really been inside a shell so I can only guess what this might entail), forced its occupant to drag it through the sand, pushing and pulling over obstacles like an anchor on a land ship.
I’m as guilty as the next person in thinking that more is more. Bigger, better, cooler, newer stuff. But, in our quest to get “from here to there” are we weighing ourselves down unnecessarily because we think we need more? Do we put emotional burdens on ourselves that force us to carry them? Burdens like I have to be the perfect parent/wife/husband/professional. I have to have a perfect house, a perfect yard, perfect kids. Each “I have to have” and “I have to be” increases the size of our personal shells.
It’s time for me to think more like a crab. Especially those that have already figured out, in their little crabby brains, the KISS mantra. So, okay – I’m keeping it simple today. And tomorrow. And the next day. And I will try to continue to live the lesson of the soldier crabs when I get back to my “real” world.
Keepin’ it crabby, mon!
Get a Handle on Life 