Hermit Crabs

The beach holds me tight, in peace. I love her for that. The sound of waves crashing the shinning water and the sea breeze what could be better. I realise as I sit on her sand that my attention has strayed from the magic of it all to a man. The man is standing in the ocean in ankle-deep water gazing at hermit crabs. He shows his kids one after the other. They are captivated for two or three crabs and then lose interest and return to other worlds of mermaids, princes and the ocean. Not the man, however. He stays enthralled by the hermit crab.

I think of the hermit crab and wonder at what it embodies that has the man so fascinated. After all, it is the shell that we really see not the fragile little fellow inside. I guess the shell is what the hermit crab sees as well. I wonder if he has any idea of the vastness of the force that pushes and pulls him up and down the beach. The shell provides a means by which the fragile crab can survive the vastness. A shell the crab holds onto so completely that he can roll through the day with out having to deal with anything too unfamiliar and too mind blowing: A way to ignore the vastness. 

Of course hermit crabs grow, and in time the shell will be too small to hold the crab, or perhaps too familiar to distract him from the vastness anymore.  An idle brain will wonder into dangerous territory, territory outside The Shell. It’s a terror that will propel the crab into a frantic search for a bigger and better shell: something bigger, deeper and more distracting than the old, outdated shell.   I can only guess at the terror that little crab faces as he ditches the old shell and begins the search for the new shell: a naked body and true-self exposed for all to see as he runs frantically to find this new shell.  Such exposure to not only ultimately find a shell that will not only hide his weaknesses but will also show the world his worth and significance, all the while trying not to think about how vast the ocean all around him is.  It’s a risk, but one he has to take. Only then will it find peace when once again it can sink into its perfect shell and be aware of nothing but the world within the shell.

I wonder what it would take for the hermit crab to say “fuck it, I’m going to live life free and exposed.  Let the shells fall where they may.” Life may be shorter, the other crabs may say. Perhaps but perhaps not – who knows what stress and strain carrying around that big shell puts on the body?  But the pressure of always having to upgrade, to be bigger and better… that is real weight.

I wonder whether living life open and exposed is as scary as one might first think. Feeling that cool water over every inch of his body can’t be all bad, nor can having no thoughts of shell-ness to distract him from how lucky he is to be held by the ocean in that moment. It would mean accepting one’s vulnerability: accepting it and then letting it go as he remembers he will never be anything other than part of the ocean.  In this awareness, were he able to find it, a fear would dissolve and he is safe and secure and giggling at how fabulous the water feels.

Sounds like a day living like that might be better than years of carrying a heavy shell.

I stand up and walk to my friend to look at hermit crabs.