8:58 a.m. - 2010-10-20
David Rakoff - The tortoise and the scorpion
The scorpion was hamstrung, his tail all aquiver;
just how would he manage to get across the river?
�The water�s so deep,� he observed with a sigh,
which pricked at the ears of the tortoise nearby.
�Well why don�t you swim?� asked the slow-moving fellow,
�unless you�re afraid. I mean, what are you, yellow?�
�It isn�t a matter of fear or of whim,�
said the scorpion,
�but that i don�t know how to swim.�
�Ah, forgive me. I didn�t mean to be glib when
I said that. I figured you were an amphibian.�
�No offense taken,� the scorpion replied,
�but how about you help me to reach the far side?
You swim like a dream, and you have what I lack.
Let�s say you take me across on your back?�
�I�m really not sure that�s the best thing to do,�
said the tortoise, �now that I see that it�s you.
You�ve a less than ideal reputation preceding:
there�s talk of your victims all poisoned and bleeding.
You�re the scorpion � and how can I say this � but, well,
I just don�t feel safe with you riding my shell.�
The scorpion replied, �What would killing you prove?
We�d both drown, so tell me: how would that behoove
me to basically die at my very own hand
when all I desire is to be on dry land?�
The tortoise considered the scorpion�s defense.
When he gave it some thought, it made perfect sense.
The niggling voice in his mind he ignored,
and he swam to the bank and called out: �Climb aboard!�
But just a few moments from when they set sail,
the scorpion lashed out with his venomous tail.
The tortoise too late understood that he�d blundered
when he felt his flesh stabbed and his carapace sundered.
As he fought for his life, he said, �tell me why
you have done this! For now we will surely both die!�
�I don�t know!� cried the scorpion. �You never should trust
a creature like me because poison I must!
I�d claim some remorse or at least some compunction,
but I just can�t help it; my form is my function.
You thought I�d behave like my cousin, the crab,
but unlike him, it is but my nature to stab.�
The tortoise expired with one final quiver.
And then both of them sank, swallowed up by the river.
The tortoise was wrong to ignore all his doubts �
because in the end, friends, our natures wins out.
---cont'd---
So: what can we learn from their watery ends?
Is there some lesson on how to be friends?
I think what it means is that central to living
a life that is good is a life that�s forgiving.
We�re creatures of contact, regardless of whether
we kiss or we wound. Still, we must come together.
Though it may spell destruction, we still ask for more �
since it beats staying dry but so lonely on shore.
So we make ourselves open while knowing full well
it�s essentially saying, �please, come pierce my shell.�
