The Secret Lives of Fish

As I waited for a friend today, I decided to strike up some silent conversation with a nearby tank of angel fish. As I drew close, they all swam to where I stood.

Paddling in place, watching me watch them, their suspended states of fin-flapping animation exuded perfect contentedness. The approach of my vague, humanoid sillouette brought them a simple hope stemming from an instinctual faith.

Tracking a single particle of dirt, I watched as one fish vacuumed trash into its mouth - only to blow it out again moments later in an abrupt recognition of folly. Unflustered, it continued hanging on by an invisible thread, living a conscience-free life.

Sometimes I wish I could be one of these fish. Unaware of my own existence, I would kick around, suck on floating debris, and live utterly satisfied with my God-given role of swimming back and forth in my silly little world.