I feel a pin stuck deep into my back spreading me open like a butterfly on a board, constraining my movement, my thoughts, my feelings. I feel crushed under the weight of a stress invisible: a stress that defies explanation.
When one is an insect (such as a butterfly or even a fly) crushed under a boot, one’s world becomes asphalt and rubber. There is nothing else apparent.
If I asked the insect, “what is causing your distress?” The insect might reply, “I am feeling in a lot of pain because my thorax is bursting.” They might think more deeply and notice, “My chitin is not thick enough to withstand the pressures of this world.” They might look outside of themselves, and notice, “The ground here is very hard and rocky. If it was softer or had deeper crevices, I would be just fine.” They might look more carefully at the source of their affliction, and note, “The hard tread of this boot is really a problem. It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t smell of dog poop. I wonder why this boot is falling on me?”
As the insect evaluates and perceives their situation, the available perspectives may be limited. Isn’t there a foot, an ankle, a leg attached to that boot? Is there not a giant with eyes that can perceive the insect? Did the giant choose this insect to step upon? Or, is the insect being crushed because the giant chose not to look?
The wisdom available to a fly on the wall is a capacity to see many perspectives. With the freedom a wall affords, a fly can bear witness to all that transpires. She can fly off the wall to buzz around gaining even more perspectives, including entering through the ear to observe what’s really going on inside that giant’s head.