Writing Marathon Winter 2008–Jeff Grinvalds
Morrill Hall in the Evolution Display
(by Jeff Grinvalds)
So this Drosophila walks up to this female and says, "Hey baby, what's going on?" Actually it's quite a bit simpler than that. He corners her and makes no bones about announcing his intent to mate with her. He desperately follows her with raised absomen and wings spread wide--wild red eyes gawking, as much as a fly can gawk...
She tries to get away, moving sideways and back. He dances with her--continually advancing toward her. "Come on baby!"
Reflecting on my own selection... my own natural selection, wondering if Darwin ever considered desperation as our catalyst for evolution? The strong may survive, but it's the desperate who thrive. That fly, that desperate drosophila, unwilling to give up on his mate out of shear fear of failure. The desperate masses who cling to the hope that maybe there is someone there... maybe she will call... maybe she'll change her mind.
"Sure, she's walking away now. But I saw the way she looked at me just before she flew off... she'll be back... I hope."
Man can be as strong as he wants to be, but let's face it--it's persistence that win out over all.
And in my desperation what have I found? In her desperation what has she given up? Our mutual desperation and hope have brought us together--dancing like drosophila--neither strong nor selected, but leaned upon... hoped for... wished into existence through quiet prayers spoken into the pillow at midnight.