Today’s word is SHANTY, the song sailors used to sing. But we like the shy ant that hides in that word. The dictionary says that a shy person is someone that doesn’t feel comfortable in the company of others, but it also says that shying stones is the same as throwing them, and that made us think of pebbles bouncing off the sea, one, two, three times, before sinking to the bottom.
The protagonist of this story is a shy ant, that has never felt comfortable in his colony, surrounded by more than a thousand ants, strangers one and all.
The day has come to look for a new home, because there are no leaves left in the forest where the ants used to live. The ant at the head of the row hears a song in the distance, and instead of leading them to another forest, she leads them to the sea. The ants reach a ship, there are sailors singing while they prepare to set sail, and the ants decide to board their ship.
Our shy ant sees a sailor throwing pebbles. Pebbles that bounce one, two, three times and then sink to the bottom of the sea. And for the first time in his life, our ant steps out of the row. He climbs the last pebble, just as the sailor is about to throw it. An island of solitude, for a shy ant, that only wants a moment for himself. A moment to feel comfortable, for once in his life.
It’s time to set sail. The ship is ready, I already got rid of the wooden mermaid that was attached to its front. I believe in warding off evil as much as everyone else, but I would rather focus on real monsters. Ants. The crowd. If I am going to enjoy this journey to a new world, the figurehead has to be an ant. To ward off the crowd. And be able to breathe. Think. Sing. In an empty ocean. With wind in my sails. And no one else there to break it, before I reach my dreams.
When I was young, someone told me that I was an ant. That I had been born to be part of something bigger than myself. Loneliness was the refrain in all the lullabies she sang to me. The monster that would snatch me from my place in the line. From that place, surrounded by others, where I was meant to thrive. She sang about love, she sang about acceptance, about all the things that I would miss, if the monster took me far, far away from the crowd. But no matter how many times she repeated that refrain, her lullabies didn’t overwrite what I had already seen with my own two eyes. A forest, something larger than life. Razed to the ground by a crowd of hungry ants, that to this day still make me dream of the sea. Of floating in a calm sea, in something larger than a dream. Alone. At peace.
I’ve heard that some princesses are blessed the day they are born. With blue eyes. With sunny smiles. But I am not a princess. The day I was born, I was cursed. With shyness. With something that I should have been able to outgrow by now. I am an ant. I live surrounded by ants. I haven’t spent a single moment of my life alone, not even with my thoughts. Exposure alone should have cured me by now. But I still haven’t met a single ant I feel comfortable with. One that would make a smile, no matter how small, ripple across my face. Something real. Not just a show of teeth, to be able to survive in the crowd.
If I had lived my life any other way, this pebble in the middle of the ocean would be called loneliness. But I lived my life as an ant. Surrounded, always surrounded, by other ants. This isn’t where I drown. That was the crowd. This pebble’s name is solitude. This pebble is the only thing that keeps me afloat. Because I did my part, and I have earned my reward. The peace, the joy that can only be found in the middle of nowhere, with no other ants in sight.
I don’t need a sailing ship. No matter how heartening the wind feels on my skin, I don’t want to depend on someone else. When I need to escape, I sing. Until I reach my new world. One that belongs only to me. One whose melody, whose lyrics I get to decide. I don’t need dreams that feel like wind on my skin. I don’t want dreams that leave me feeling powerless as soon as I wake up. I would rather live inside a song. One I get to share my breath with. All that I am. All that I wish I could be.
I found one thousand and one ants stowed away in our ship. I thought about throwing them overboard, but, in the end, I changed my mind. They told me that they had to leave their forest behind. That there was nothing left, not even a lonely tree stump. That their hope was to sail to a new world, one full of forests that matched the one in their memories. And I want to see how long their hope lasts, in the face of this sea. Because I have sailed this sea full of broken waves before. I know that it resembles the remnants of something that has been razed to the ground. And I already know all my songs by heart. I want something new. I want to see someone else’s broken dreams, for a change.
The reason why I like songs is the same reason why I like ropes. It’s about the knots. It’s about unity. It’s about raising your voice, tangling it with someone else’s, and knowing that, even after your song has faded, the thing you have created won’t come undone. I became a sailor because someone told me that the sea was a dream. And I have always known that there is no point in dreaming alone. That dreams are like songs, that they are like rope. Dreams should unite people. Because that is the only way to avoid fading away.
I wish someone had told me the truth sooner, before I decided to devote my life to the sea. I thought that every day would be a song. That I would feel free, happy, like a pebble bouncing off the sea. I thought that my dream would never come to an end. And I wish someone had told me that I was being a child. That all pebbles sink in the end. Because now it’s already too late. There is no going back. I have already lost my songs. They have become my work. And I don’t have anything else. I don’t have anything else I can bounce off the sea. To try and be free. To try and be happy once again.
Life is a pebble bouncing off the sea. There are ups, there are downs, and you sink in the end. The best you can hope for is touching someone else, it’s having your ripples reach someone else, before you disappear. Someone told me that I wasn’t an isle, that my one and only wish in this life shouldn’t be being left alone. He took me to the sea, and we skipped stones. I told him that the ripples only appeared when the stone touched the water’s surface. That I didn’t want to be touched by other people’s low points in life. That I didn’t want to be influenced by other people’s sadness, by their anger or their hatred. That I would rather be alone, and keep both my ups and my downs to myself. But he told me that I was wrong. That the ripples were hope, that they were there to encourage someone else to keep bouncing off.
I know that you are an ant, I know that you have to depict loneliness as a monster. I don’t blame you. It’s your world, you don’t want it to change. I’m sure that monkeys would do the same. But my word is solitude, and I don’t want it to change. That’s the word that makes me happy, it’s where I find my happiness. I know that you believe in ripples, but there is no need to make me cry. I live by my word. I believe in silence. And even if I didn’t, I assure you that my ripples would fade before reaching anyone else.
Poor little ant. You thought that you would finally be alone. And I don’t need any more proof that wishes never come true. How many times did your pebble bounce off the sea? One? Two? Three? Just enough to give you false hope, and hurt you one last time. When the pebble sank. And all those little bubbles appeared out of nowhere. A myriad of ants. The suffocating crowd you thought you had left behind.
They told me that I was powerful, that I mattered. That even a tiny ripple like me could bring about change. That the important thing was to touch other people’s hearts. And that is what I tried to do. What they never told me was that ripples fade. Without a trace. That it doesn’t take much effort to forget someone that no longer matters. Even if she used tiny pieces of her heart to create those ripples instead of pebbles. What they never told me was that most of my heart would end up at the bottom of the sea. Out of sight. Out of mind. And the only one that would change, for the worse, would be me.