I’m enjoying seeing the robins proudly perching on my fence. The robins
are enjoying seeing worms out on the grass -- and they’re very proud of their
catches. The circle of life continues.
Some of my early childhood memories involve my older brother collecting
buckets of worms for a fishing expedition. The image of these worms, pink and
slimy, writhing around in the bucket, was disturbing. I didn’t like the worms,
but I was sorry to think of them being fastened on hooks as bait for fish. The
fish too were soon to die, of course. More circle of life stuff.
There are many ways in which worms can make one
uncomfortable: the pallid, slimy look of them, the way they squiggle, their
underground nature. Some therapists suggest that in dreams worms symbolize
negative feelings of degradation or weakness. In everyday life, worms have
unpleasant associations: when we die, we become food for worms; a difficult
problem becomes a can of worms; unethical people worm information out of us, or
worm their way into things. Wormy food is infested or damaged. Wormy people are
weak, unpleasant or untrustworthy.
But recently I’ve encountered other ways of looking
at worms. Gardeners delight in worms and have always known about their
importance. Growers study composting techniques, and sometimes have been known
to buy worms. You can buy them by the pound or inch at a store near you, or you
can order online.
My friend Al McWilliam, a Vancouver artist, says “Worms are the
ultimate transformers: they take waste and turn it into something valuable.”
Inspired by the transformative contributions worms were making to his compost,
Al took photographs of worms burrowing through his compost and made large
prints of the results. These photographs have been shown io various settings
and about five years ago they were turned into signs with the text “Development
Permit Application,” under the auspices of Other Sights, as part of Vancouver
Western Front’s multi-site exhibition called “Urgent Imagination:”
The exhibition encouraged viewers
to reflect on what development means and to consider the kind of development
that is taking place underground, not just the rapid development above. As part
of the exhibition, Meredith Quartermain read a poem about worms called “How to
Remember.” In it, she asks, “Earthworms who eat rotting leaves in temperate
forests are invasive species, but Homo sapiens who burn down forests for
hamburger farms are creating wealth?”
Al says he sees the worms as “kind of beautiful and
elegant,” which would be a stretch for me, but I have to acknowledge that they
do valuable work. In fact, as world-renowned Canadian scientist and
humanitarian Ursula Franklin has pointed out, they present a useful model for
social change and development:
“Social change will
not come to us like an avalanche down the mountain,” she said. “It will come
through seeds growing in well prepared soil – and it is we, like the
earthworms, who prepare the soil. We also seed thoughts and knowledge and
concern. We realize there are no guarantees as to what will come up. Yet we do
know that without the seeds and prepared soil nothing will grow at all… we need
more earthworming.” (For more on Ursula Franklin, read her book The Real World
of Technology based on her CBC Massy Lectures.)
Maybe the pandemic has presented
us with the critical need for earthworming, not just in the creation and
cultivation of gardens, but in thinking about how we might prepare the soil for
social change. What seeds of thought and knowledge and concern could we be
planting as we emerge from our isolation? Like it or not, this is a time of
change, so let’s keep up our earthworming, preparing the soil and choosing the
seeds that matter.
