Snapping turtle and me

My recent mood is like the undulating mountain rain in early spring. Sometimes it is cloudy, and sometimes there is a glimmer of light. It is changeable but also has a vague background that has gone through thousands of sails - overall it is tending to be stable. When a person reaches a certain stage, his mind is no longer as easily frightened and provoked by the external environment as a wild horse. Living in this huge social container, we are experiencing all kinds of helpless setbacks every day. Sometimes it’s a complicated job with no clue, sometimes it’s the unspeakable subtle gaps in interpersonal relationships, or it’s the sudden self-doubt that strikes in the dead of night.

We are like hard-working but clumsy tailors, doing all kinds of sewing and mending work every day on the robe full of holes in “life”. One hole has been repaired, but the thread may have cracked on the other side; as soon as the wave of anxiety has subsided, new trivial matters come one after another. But, if you think about it carefully, isn’t life like this? It has never been a seamless garment, but a garment made up of countless regrets, frustrations, joy and sweat. We learned the art of compromise through sewing, and grew stronger bones through repeated setbacks.

When the hustle and bustle of the day finally comes to an end, when every cell in the body is clamoring for exhaustion, and when the string in the heart is about to break, the wisest thing to do at this time is not to continue fighting, but to let go of the heavy heart and have a good sleep without any scruples. Night is a refuge for adults only. Shut those unfinished reports, unsolved misunderstandings, and unclarified thoughts outside the bedroom door. Because we know very well: If we cannot even guarantee sleep tonight, if we allow meaningless internal consumption to eat away at our time to recuperate, then when the sun rises tomorrow and new difficulties come flooding back like a tide, what should we do to deal with it? Rest is never an escape from life, but a way to accumulate strength and have enough confidence to put on the armor again when dawn breaks.

This cycle of constant setbacks, recuperation, and then striking out again is the oldest, cruelest, and truest law of survival in nature. Speaking of this, I thought of the snapping turtle raised at home.

This little guy usually stays in the water tank, like an ancient reef that has accumulated over the years, exuding a sense of coldness and calmness. A few days ago, in order to improve its food, I bought ten turtle fry. For the snapping turtle, this should be an easy feast. After all, no matter from the absolute suppression of body size or the disparity in bite force, this is a hunt without any doubts. However, things got off to an unexpectedly dramatic start.

When the snapping turtle opens its huge mouth as sharp as a guillotine and pounces on its prey with the arrogance of an apex predator, the seemingly weak and defenseless turtle fry explodes with an astonishing survival instinct in the desperate situation of life and death. Instead of waiting for death, it stretched out its neck and bit the snapping turtle’s most vulnerable eye. This sudden severe pain instantly defeated the snapping turtle’s offensive rhythm. In pain, it instinctively chose to let go and retreated to the side in embarrassment. There seemed to be a trace of surprise and fear in its eyes.

If the story only stops at this moment, it may just be a brief episode about the counterattack of the weak. But reality never pays attention to the sensationalism of the script. Retreating is just a short-term instinctive reaction of the snapping turtle; eating to survive is its ultimate goal engraved in its genes. It did not have a psychological shadow on the food in front of it because of a “biting eye pain”, nor did it choose to go on a hunger strike because of its first failure. It lurked quietly in the water, as if silently licking its wounds, and seemed to be re-evaluating the opponent in front of it, looking for a safer attack angle.

After several trials and rounds of confrontation, the atmosphere in the water tank became chilly again. This time, the snapping turtle apparently learned wisely. It no longer pounces blindly, but has learned to strike in a roundabout way and with precision. It avoided the snapping turtle’s head, saw the right moment, and bit the opponent’s fatal part with lightning speed. The scaly mouth closed ruthlessly, and no matter how hard the turtle fry struggled, it could never repeat the miracle of “biting its eyes”. Eventually, the snapping turtle managed to swallow the spiky prey into its mouth. After a thrilling hunt, it just shook its head slightly, as if nothing had happened. It still had the unique aloofness of ancient creatures and continued to swim leisurely in the water, enjoying the tranquility and calmness after a full meal.

Watching it stretch its limbs in the water, I suddenly had a sudden enlightenment about my life these days. The process of this snapping turtle hunting is a perfect metaphor for the difficulties we face in life.

Those thorny problems, difficult customers, and sudden changes are like those turtle fry. When we confidently try to solve them, we are often caught off guard by them and bite us directly, hitting our weakest and most painful “eyes”. That sense of frustration and tingling will make us instinctively want to retreat, let go, and shout “I’ve had enough.” This is the “pain of being bitten” and “letting go” in our lives.

But what happens after the pain is gone? If we never face it because we are afraid of pain, then we will eventually be slowly consumed in the water tank of life. True maturity and stability are like that of the snapping turtle: accepting defeat in the first confrontation, enduring the severe pain of being bitten, and then retreating to a corner, taking a deep breath - just like when we fall asleep after a tiring day, to regroup. When we recover and mend the wounds in our hearts, we will grow new wisdom. We will change our perspective, change our strategy, and challenge the difficulties again.

Life will not become soft because of our tears, and difficulties will not disappear because of our retreat. Only in the process of being bitten again and again, letting go, resting, and attacking again can we develop precise vision and a strong mind. When those problems that once made us miserable are finally “swallowed into our mouths” and completely solved, all the fatigue and grievances will be turned into nutrients for growth.

At this moment, my heart is like a snapping turtle that has had enough to eat and drink, swimming leisurely in the deep pool of time. Life is indeed full of rough grains, which require us to constantly polish and mend. But as long as we retain the calmness to sleep peacefully after being injured, and have the courage to continue “hunting” after waking up, then no matter how our emotions change, the foundation of life will ultimately be stable. Let tonight’s sleep be the best cure. Tomorrow, there will still be new “squid fry” waiting for us to conquer in the water tank of life.