The major problem facing the human race at this point in our development is centered on the question of identity. How we answer the question of who we are––as individuals, and the larger/smaller groups with which we identify–– determines our morality, our behavior and our destiny. The issue reminds me of the bagel, the snail and the strawberry.

I was walking through the Claremont Village one morning on my way to the Bagel Shop, thinking about life and death. My internal computer runs a systems check on my mental operating system from time to time, trying to update the software so that I continue to broaden my vision. That process allows me to move in ever widening circles, although sometimes I just move in circles.

In any event, I was walking along and thinking about writing a piece for an article about the value of focusing on the “now,” since death is a given, and we probably could accomplish a great deal more of what we want if we would remember that “time” is precious, and available in limited quantities. The story that came to mind was about a man, a tiger and a strawberry.

A certain man was walking through a forest, when suddenly a tiger jumped at him, eager to have its morning meal. The man managed to duck the initial leap, and ran for his life. The tiger, quick to recover, chased was in hot pursuit. Just as the tiger was about to make his pounce, the man, running next to a cliff, decided to take his chances and leapt over the side into the unknown. (The man must have taken to heart the advice of motivational speaker Mark Victor Hansen who recommends, “Decide first, then solve the problems.”)

In any event, just as the man jumped over the edge he spotted a vine, and managed to grab it, stopping his fall and barely escaping the hungry tiger. So there he was, hanging from the vine, just out of reach of the lunging, slashing claws of the hungry beast, and drawing deep breaths of air in relief. As he surveyed his situation, deciding what to do next, and thinking sweet thoughts about his escape, he looked down and saw another tiger waiting beneath him, again just out of reach, drooling hungrily and growling plaintively. “Aha!” thought the man. “I can out-wait them, hanging here from this vine. They’ll get so hungry they’ll soon forget me and go somewhere else to find their meal.”

Just as he was congratulating himself on his good fortune, he noticed a little gray mouse, just out of his reach, gnawing at the vine. Moment after desperate moment the vine became thinner and thinner, nearing the breaking point. As the man once again surveyed his situation, this time more hopeless than the last, with tigers above and below, and a mouse steadily gnawing through the vine, the man spied a large, juicy, red ripe strawberry growing out of a small crack in the rock of the cliff face. Reaching over ever so carefully, so as not to lose his grip on the vine, the man gently plucked the strawberry, popped it into his mouth, and began to savor its flavor. “Umm,” he moaned in pleasure, “That ís good!”

It was at this point in the story, while I was walking toward the bagel shop, that I noticed a snail, exactly half way in its trek across the “in” driveway of the bank. As my momentum carried me past the snail I began to think it would never make it across the driveway alive: either someone would step on it, as I almost did, or a car would flatten it on the way into the parking lot.

I thought about that little snail, making its way in the universe, with every part of its being intent on surviving as long as possible. This is an especially admirable feat in Southern California, where many people conspire to deprive as many snails from a good meal of garden plants and flowers as possible. And I thought about the man on the vine, and the strawberry, and me.

I turned around, retraced my steps, picked the snail off the pavement and put it in the bushes. At this point a well-dressed woman walked by and said, “Oh, trying to keep a snail alive? They eat the plants, you know.” I replied, “Yes. I’m sure it wants to live just as much as I do.” “I suppose so,” she said. “I guess I do have more than enough plants.” And off she went.

I don’t know how long the snail will live, or me, or the woman, her plants, or you. What I felt, however, was that I made some small affirmation about life, sharing the intent I have for mine with another living being, albeit a snail. I know that for a brief moment something passed between the snail and me (even if it was only a few microbes), and certainly something passed between the woman and me. I’m less sure what that was about, primate to primate. Perhaps she’ll join me in my small affirmation of life. Or perhaps she’ll just think, “Fool.”

It doesn’t matter. But I do wonder what I’ll think about, the next time I eat escargot and strawberries.

David Lintner, a former Lutheran Pastor, has been involved in NLP and Ericksonian Hypnosis for 15+ years. David conducts NLP training and seminars for businesses and the general public. He offices in Claremont, CA. e-mail: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it 909-621-6883