I watch the koi fish swim through their pond.
Rhythmically, almost methodically, they slide past one another. Bright colors follow their quick movement, remnants of the past. They weave in and out, never knocking heads or colliding. Every form of contact—of what little there is—appears calm and natural from the surface. The noises of the fish and surrounding organisms are practically silent, emitted sound waves muted by the thick barricade of water. I twirl my hair as I sit on a stone’s edge, observing the fish. I take note each time one breaks the surface and re-submerges, when small circular waves appear and fade. I toss small flakes to the dancing colors. They immediately swim towards it, struggling to take whatever fractions of the food they can. Even now, their struggle seems melodic—a form of desperation so respectably simple it brings me to tears.
I wonder how they see me and if they acknowledge me. I imagine a large blur, shuffling around beyond the refractions of light and ripples on the water’s surface. Matted colors make up the figure, which must seem daunting to the small, defenseless creatures confined to the small pond. Do they know of their weakness, or are they oblivious to this cage they’re trapped in? The cage of their mental capacity, as well as their geographical cage—do they know there is a world beyond this? The large blur beckons them, dropping more food into their prison. It floats lightly on the surface before being attacked, ripped to shreds, by the defenseless fish—or so I call them.
I wipe my tears. I am jealous of their primitive concerns, vital to existence yet so simple and straightforward. Perhaps this cage I refer to is what grants them freedom. I often find myself tied down by the complexities of modern life. Too many things happen at once. The innovations that have enabled such connection and opportunity have simultaneously stripped us of simplicity. My hands are full, my schedule unyielding, and my days are stuck in routine. Sometimes, I wish to return to the times when it was not so. To strive only for food in your stomach, to be fulfilled by a fruitful hunt. Fulfillment is now much less tangible—finding meaning in a world with so much waste is much more complicated. Ignorance is bliss they say. I look down at the fish. Stuck within their mental and physical boundaries, unaware. I revel in their stupidity, and envy overcomes me.
I toss another flake of food, watching once again as the fish strive for it. As they silently push each other out of the way, simultaneously whipping their victims with thrashing tails. I reflect once again on how, despite this savage and cruel behavior, the phenomenon appears so devoid of violence. I cannot tell if this is because of their lack of intelligence or because of the simplicity of the thing. Either way, I draw a single conclusion: the struggle for life is truly remarkable.