Rotten Fruit Parable

This is the rotten remains of a fruit. Somebody strung it up on a string in the park. I don’t know why. This is the rotten remains of a fruit. Somebody strung it up on a string in the park. I don’t know why.

But I felt oddly compelled by it. It has a certain attraction that seems unwarranted. I think I know why.

We live in an artificial, neat, plastic world. Among unnatural things of sharp angles and weird textures. Cover ourselves with plastic. Sit on plastic. Eat plastic. Breathe noxious gases. Pretend it is not mind-numbingly frightening to walk among metal monsters going 100 mph. Seek shelter in concrete tight boxes with many other people.

This is modern life. It is what we think we want. Because that is all we see in our short lives. But Homo Sapiens is used to nature, the wild, messy, dirty, unpredictable, scary nature.

This fruit thing represents this dirty, ugly, rotting aspect of nature. It is by all account vile because we would be sick to eat rotten fruit. But it is also a dear reminder of what we are missing. As I am repelled by it, my inner monkey looks at it with nostalgia and remembers how my ancestors hunted in the savannah.