There was something about the snail, in the way that it moved, that was more like life than any other animal alive.

We know the simple home-on-its-back platitude, yet at the same time mustn’t forget: this shell which is its home is also its everything— and this everything is not just with, but is moreover atop & thusly daily bearing down upon its little snailbody perpetually, for each & every moment of its existence, till that last moment of death’s release. At which point: its shell is either a) preserved for being deemed of cultural value, b) sent off to be crushed into natural fertilizer for other of life’s purposes, or else c) a forgotten curiosity entirely & left to disappear at Time itself’s opted-for rate, centuries far past decomposition’s completion with its softsmall body for sure. And even in the best possible outcome, a) : this outcome isn’t determined by the shell-bearer him|herself, but by other snails heretofore unknown, snailing along as they may— or, may not.
        [But we somewhat digress— future generations’ judgement of a life’s work’s worth being not the main of what occurred to the MC whence looking down upon the steadily-but-slow-moving mollusk before him. What he saw was the same thing most anyroo sees when they first really notice something: movement. Though specifically, here: the particular mechanics thereof.]

The snail’s potency of metaphor lay not simply in the aforementioned platitude, but moreover in the observed fact of its constantly reaching forward, at great strain in its extension, not just to get somewhere, but: to get somewhere only so as to have to pull the rest of its life (its everything & entire past, failures & joys, sense of security & even said sense perhaps lost, the sum total weight of which is never not felt) slowly back up to where it needs its whole self to be; i.e., back to the place of & in sync with where its head is at— and all ad infinitum & till death. Looked at this way, a snail’s time on earth almost seemed a bit not unlike the myth of Sisyphusroo.

§

The image of the snail hit K-Roo hard this evening, perhaps a little bit too close to home, & so delivered him pause. For what was it when something hit you too close to home, and your home was on your back? Well, it was essentially like getting struck from behind— it made you turn & look around.

And my what there was to see— as well as my what there wasn’t to be seen at all.

Life hadn’t added up to or unravelled what he’d long ago thought it might’ve by this point, and the perspective was sobering— even with drink in paw.
        The MC K-Roo thusly— with help from & under the aegis of Platy— looked at the image of the snail & the possibilities around other of its potential and/or laden-within metaphors more closely. Under the circumstances & considering the sharp sting in the moment felt, it seemed more reasonable to see the snail’s shell not only as a symbol for home, but moreover also for baggage, so to speak.

Whereupon the Rooster understood: that there can sometimes develop or even suddenly occur an undesirable relationship between these two above-italicized nouns, & specifically: if & when the former becomes the latter— as it perhaps just recently in his life had.

§

Here are the only two motions, which all of the world’s roos understand: if a roo doesn’t exert to get to, s|he exerts to get from. In our three dimensions, those are the only options. For while staying in place is certainly a physical possibility, given that the nature of life is grounded in change, let’s just say that remaining still is “metaphysically prohibited.” To wit, if you don’t take action in the physical world now, you’ll someday later have to— or else pay the psychological (or, i.e., spiritual?) consequences for not.
        Which is to say & to bring it full-circle: by opting for stasis one will either be adding to the baggage having to be dealt with later, or else unceremoniously died with later still. Picture a law of physics, or think exercise: when wanting to continue existing as one heretofore has, but suddenly now without moving around at all, without exercising: excess weight will be gained, and not in the more helpful form of muscle.

§

Beneath or within the snail was the slug. Freed of the baggage of its shell it could more deftly penetrate the earth, fertilize through living endeavor the world it was solemnly born into. Freed of the bounding fact of its carried & surrounding shell, it would need redefine its idea of home by virtue of & through newly-encountered, farther-from-its-flesh surroundings: the planet earth wide, alone & itself, its unknown blessings & staid deadly presence; quite effectively: sanity’s only option. What conceived and gave birth to its tender flesh in the first place, of course.