My Noesis

Preface: This fable is a prompt assigned to me where the worldviews take shape in form of animals in a forest. The worldviews included are Nihilism, Existentialism, Christianity, New Age, Naturalism, and Idealism/Pantheistic Monism. Let me know if you can figure out who is who!

There is a forest where nothing is ever meant to be known. If you would listen, the trees whisper truths they believe to be true, and the brooks babble only what they hear. The creatures of this forest skitter about their seemingly nonsensical lives; flirting with frivolity while simultaneously dancing with danger. Day by day the animals master the steps to this dance of life; hunt, eat, run, sleep. This cycle is continuous, it does not stop; it is life, it is not meant to stop. Until it did.

The Bunny could feel the hot breath of the wolf, bracing for the impact of his sharp fangs about to pierce her neck. But no, she was not yet ready– she had so much more life left to live. This could not be the end.

“Stop!” She screamed, still trying to wriggle away.

The wolf, so surprised, did in fact stop. He kept a firm paw on her chest but brought his head back up to look at her, “excuse me?” 

“I said stop,” Bunny panted, and she said the exact words that came into her head only moments before, “I’m not ready to die yet.”

“No one is ready to die sweet Bunny,” Wolf replied, chuckling at such foolishness, “it will greet us all one day with a cold embrace. Today is that day for you I’m afraid.”

“No!” Bunny exclaimed, as Wolf opened his jaw once more, “please no! I have much more life to live! I swear it I do!”

“But this is the life you were meant to live, you are the prey, I am the predator. This is the cycle of life, you live so that I may hunt you; and you must die so that I may live.”

“No, I cannot simply be prey. I have a life, and a purpose that I must live out! This purpose cannot be death.”

“Would you just shut your trap and let Mr. Wolf kill you now?” Slinking out of the darkness, a skinny red coyote adds his voice to the conversation, “I’m sure he’ll make it quick if you lie still.”

“No no no!” Bunny cries, nose quivering in fear, “I’m not ready to die! I have not yet made this life my own, I am not just your dinner!”

“In a sense you are right,” Wolf replies, settling back on his haunches, still keeping a paw on Bunny, “You are not just my dinner. You are also his,” he nods over to Coyote, “You must die, so I may eat, and so that he may scavenge my leftovers, so he may not starve. One could argue, it is my purpose to kill you, so that two may eat.”

“All this talk of purpose has no role in a hunt,” Coyote snarls, “kill her so we may eat. I am hungry and so are you. A bunny has no purpose, it is an object of a hunt. There is no life to be led by a bunny.”

“I do too have a life to lead!” Bunny argues, “I have a litter of babies at home in my burrow. I must raise them or they will die, that is a part of my purpose!”

“This purpose you speak of is just a cycle,” Wolf replies, “you have babies so that they grow and may later be hunted. Your litter will feed mine, and so on and so forth. Purpose has nothing to do with the circle of life.” 

“And what is purpose if all is met by death at the end?” Coyote asks, “there cannot be a reason for life if it ends. Life is simply life, it exists and cycles and there is no reason for it.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Wolf comments, “I thin–”

“We all think and think and it doesn’t mean anything,” Coyotes snaps, “kill the bunny so that we may think no more!”

Dusk has fallen upon the forest. And with the darkness come more creatures of the night. A hooting presence descends upon the trio, settling itself inside the knot of an old tree. 

“Foolish hound,” the Owl chirps, “we think because we are. That is how we know we exist.”

“Existing means nothing if met with extinction,” Coyote replies, “which inevitably it does.”

“This is nothing but semantics,” Wolf grumbles, “I hunt because I must eat, and he’s a scavenger by nature. And by nature, bunnies are prey and meant to be eaten.”

“But how do we know if it’s ‘meant to be’ if we aren’t supposed to think about it?” Owl asks, scratching an itch in her feathers, “every life must have some purpose if we apply meaning to it.” 

“Now you are just confusing me,” Coyote sits and begins to attack an itch on his back.

“Well think of it like this, it’s not just chance we are all gathered here this night.”

“It isn’t?” Bunny, Wolf, and Coyote ask in unison.

“No!” Owl caws in laughter, “life is a series of decisions that leads to an ultimatum. Tonight, Bunny, your’s is death. Wolf, your’s is dinner. And Coyote, your’s is scraps.” 

“No,” Bunny protests, “my destiny is not just death.”

“What is it to live if you will ultimately die?” Wolf howls, “you are to die so that I may eat and live; these are the facts of life.”

“Chance is what runs life bird,” Coyote drawls, “everything occurs simply because it does, if it occurs it is the off chance in a completely random world. Wolf didn’t make a decision to find Bunny because he was hungry. He was on his way home to his den and she was foolish enough to be afoot. Pure chance.”

“Oh bu–”

“Oh but nothing,” Coyote barks, cutting Owl off, “there is no meaning to be found in life. We live, we die, nothing matters! We live while we can because that is what we do. No rhyme, no reason, we live until we die.”

“But death is not the end,” Bunny protests, “life does not end in death! No one knows.”

“You could discover that knowledge in mere moments,” Wolf says, his stomach emitting a dangerous growl. 

“Death is not the end,” Owl agrees, “we live life to the best of our ability, and from there we are welcomed into the afterlife.”

“But how do we know?” Wolf pleads, “all I know for certain is my reality. And that reality is my hunger.” 

“But do you know your reality?” A melodic voice asks, lilting through the air.

“Who is that?” Bunny asks, her nose twitching nervously.

A tiny flash appears in the otherwise blank night, it was a firefly. 

“Of course I know my reality,” Wolf scoffs, “matter is all that exists, and this bunny is the matter that will fill my stomach. That is my reality.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Firefly scolds, “that is but your own individual reality. Reality is composed of everyone’s personal reality and reflected through one’s own thoughts.”

“That would mean everything is subjective,” Owl says, “that is simply not how the world works.”

“Isn’t that just your own subjective opinion?” Firefly asks back.

            “This does not matter, none of this does!” Coyote exclaims, “kill the bunny so that we can feast.” 

“How can you live your life as though nothing matters?” Firefly squeaks back, “life is meant to be lived and experienced! Seize the day that you have been given, and fill it with meaning so that when you may cross death, you will have lived a life worth living.”

“But what is that meaning for if we die?” 

“We’ve been over this,” Owl replies, turning her head around, “death is not the end.”

“But it is,” Wolf says, breaking into the conversation, “death is the end of all personality, and if death strips us of who we are, then what is left of us for a life after death.”

“There is none,” Coyote agrees, “that is why death is what it is. Death.” 

“Death is not the end because death has been defeated.”

All attention turns to the edge of a clearing where a delicate doe steps out into the moonlight. Her limber legs make her way gracefully towards the wolf, settling down beside him.

“Death is not a thing,” Coyotes scoffs, baring his fangs at her, “you are awfully far from the safety of your herd.”

“I have no fear in death,” Doe replies calmly, “the life I am headed to after the perishing of my physical body is far better than any experience in this life.”

“That cannot be right,” Bunny comments, “we experience life so that when we die we may be happy for our life and experiences lived.”

“Yes,” Wolf agreed, “what is the point of living a physical life if a spiritual one is more affluent?”

“There is none!” Coyote growls, “no point, no meaning, no afterlife! Death is death, the end of life.”

“If there is no meaning,” Doe begins softly, “I must ask you, how do you go on living?”

“I live because I exist,” Coyote grumbles, lifting a leg, he begins lazily pissing on a tree, “there is no reason for it. I am here now, and I will die one day. That is all.”

“Do you not want more?” Firefly asks, “to live a life of meaning?”

“No,” Coyote replies flatly, “death greets all life, and so what is the point of life if it ends?”

“Because it does not!” Bunny, Owl, Firefly, and Doe all exclaim together. 

“I cannot believe that life is just a cycle meant to be lived through,” Bunny says, “I have so much more to do, so much more to be. I am not ready to en–”

The once vigorous conversation abruptly halts as the loud sound of Bunny’s neck snapping ricochets through the night. And all in a moment, the delicate peace brought about by a question is shattered. The doe hops up and sprints away, and the owl’s wings can be heard flapping off into the sky. The firefly’s light is gone, and all that is left is Wolf and Coyote.

“No fear in death,” Coyote scoffs, staring at the point of darkness the doe disappeared into. 

Between bites of the bunny Wolf looks up, “I suppose she will find out whether or not there is a life after death.”

“Shame we’ll never know,” Coyote chirps, waltzing up to Wolf, ready to share the meal.

But the wolf snaps and snarls, and Coyote realizes once again the position he was in. He was a scavenger, the wolf was a hunter. With this in mind, the coyote slinks back into the shadows from which he first appeared, waiting his turn to pick off the hunter’s leftovers. 

The night is finishing in the forest in which nothing is ever to be known. And the forest continued to live up to its name from that night. Despite the animals’ curiosity, and conversations breached, no conclusions could be found. Nothing could be known. Because perhaps simply nothing is ever meant to be known in this forest.