I’ve dealt efficiently—and harshly—with bugs that infiltrate my home. Flies get swatted. Larger intruders get squashed between my fingers and tissue paper.
But not this bug.
First I opened a window. Next, I coaxed the bug to a piece of paper. I carried this paper to an open window. There, I released the bug to the outdoors.
In past months, I’ve spared rather than squashed bugs (except for flies and mosquitoes). Whenever possible, I’ve captured and released them.
Why the softening attitude? I’ll venture a guess. The reason I’m showing compassion to bugs is silence. That’s right, silence.
My home office is located up in the attic. Other family members rarely go there. Distractions are few.
When a bug shows up in the attic, I notice it right away. Because the room is silent, my mood is relaxed. I’m less inclined to crush a bug. The bug is not longer just a bug. It is a physical being sharing the room. Me and it. Us. Nobody else.
Silence encourages compassion.
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