There is no escape. That’s what the crickets have found out.
Yes, there is a cricket graveyard on my basement steps’ landing. The crickets who have invaded my basement have apparently found no way to navigate the steps to freedom, apparently having no memory of how they got in.
Of course this lack of memory affects me all the time when I ask (along with David Byrne): “How did I get here?” Many have asked that question, haven’t we?
Yes, that mass of confusing decision trees I encountered in a rambling haze from wherever I was to wherever I am now. The right now. You too?
And like the cricket, many of us are wondering how to get out. The thing the cricket has though that we don’t is that it really doesn’t have any idea of how it got there and so it can only ask “How do I get out?
Whereas we are burdened by being able to ask “How did I get here?” It’s strange that I usually ask that question when I am some place I don’t want to be. Rarely do we ask ourselves that when we are in a good place, except in the movies.
It would be better if we forgot (not really but for the sake of argument) how we got here?
Why? Because with those pesky memories hanging out we find it way too easy to look back at them when what we should be doing is looking up and out.
Be the cricket. No wait, I mean be the cricket who succeeds. Wait, that’s not good advice at all. All the crickets die. Unless they are Schrodinger’s Crickets and as far as I know some of them survived.
Do not be the cricket. Just ask what the cricket asks “How do I get out of here?”