Yuku ate the original topic for this, so I'll just put it back on.

Ode to a Turtle

By Isaac Banta

Let us turn our thoughts, for a moment, to the teachings of Mother Turtle. Perhaps, from time to time, you have looked upon her, noting the stiff shell, the long neck, and contemplated her existence. Why would such a creature exist? She looks upon us with her wise, suspicious eyes, and I feel she yearns to teach us something, something about ourselves. We, man, master of Earth, are not that much different from our dear Mother Turtle. The instincts, the curiosities, the defenses; I believe that many of life's lessons can be drawn from the example of our reptilian comrade, the Turtle.

In my room sits a wide dresser, on which sits a large, clear aquarium, in which sits a moderate-sized red-eared slider terrapin, also known as your common river turtle. She goes by the name of Speedy (quite possibly without her approval) and at this very moment she is probably also sitting, basking, sunning under a brilliant lamp, showering the bony covering on her back with heat and UV rays. She waits patiently for me to come home, for only then can she leave the somewhat cramped pool of water in which she often swims, and be free to explore the outside world, in the true sun. Her wait resembles the trial of her Brother Tortoise, a long, unhurried sprint toward victory over a cocky foe. Their trials are not unlike ours; we dream of the end of the trail where happiness lies, but we aren't above sacrificing the moments needed for it to come to fruition.

The cloak of a turtle, her shield, her umbrella, the firm guideline that restricts her motion and impedes her grace, the shell; it is her burden and her weight. She is no common skittish lizard, held down by her defense. Inconvenient as it may seem, it is essential for her survival. It protects her from the elements, and from the hungry mouths of predators. Its wide face collects the gifts of the sun, and is her shelter is times of strife. It is her definition; it is who she is. Like the turtle, we all carry a shell, not of bone or iron or steel, but of pain. Our struggles, our stresses, hold us down, hold us back, but it makes us who we are. Our experiences and how we carry our shells define our very character.

Outside her shell, the demons swarm about her, looking for a %%!%* in her armor, until this futile search wearies them, and they retreat. When danger passes, Mother Turtle rejoins the world. Her head slowly investigates her surroundings, and when all is safe, her long, muscular neck, her tough, paddle-like arms, and her short, whimsical tail emerge from their hiding places and bring her back to life. She explores the world now reopened to her, energetic and free. The turtle's most familiar trait, the shell, only hides her true ambitions. She knows when to hide, but she also knows when to stick her neck out and expose herself to the world, letting down her defenses. Our defenses are not unlike hers, protecting us from our own figurative predators and storms, but we must realize that we cannot walk about in the world with our legs tucked in. She teaches that, although security is most assuredly important, knowing when to live is just as vital.

Mother Turtle is a cold-blooded soul. Not to say she is blood-thirsty, or her blood actually runs cold; the term is simply a silly colloquialism used by the scientific community. Unlike us lazy mammals, the reptile's body does not produce its own heat. With warmth to spare, we can wrap ourselves cozily in our grandmother's quilt and allow our bodies to warm themselves. Mother Turtle, however, sensing her needs, lolls in the heat of the sun or cools herself in the shade. She realizes just what she must do to bring contentment and does it. She does not rely on what gifts are simply given to others. She doesn't let the world around her dictate her own happiness. She teaches us that true warmth is within our reach if we only recognize it and bring ourselves to what we need.

Indeed, we are not turtles. My belief, however, is that I can learn to be a better person by studying her soul. I carry a shell, I search for warmth, and sometimes happiness seems miles away. But if Mother Turtle can bear her burdens, pushing always for what is right for her, maybe I can to. This, I believe.