The Plant, The Moth, and The Human

Beside a tall glass window in my house lies a series of ceramic pots with various plants. Some are grown for cooking, and others, like the flowers, are for decoration. Despite the occasional aphid or spider mite, I enjoy watching the plants grow at their gradual pace. I noticed, however, that no matter how any plant was placed, it would always try to grow towards the sun. Almost every leaf would tilt to maximize the surface area of solar exposure. Many of the long-stemmed plants would grow towards the window, sometimes growing around obstacles. The plants had an almost human-like willingness for their source of life – the sun.

Similarly, the moth described by Virginia Woolf also shows a willingness to survive. It is trapped behind the window pane, unable to travel outside – in a state of ennui – like a plant. Other than look out the window, it simply flies from "one corner of [its] compartment... to the other." Woolf also describes how the moth dies: it is slow and hopeless death where the moth gradually loses its bodily function – similar to a plant devoid of sunlight. Yet, the moth constantly shows a willingness to survive by "dancing and zigzagging" while attempting to escape its confinement. The plant, a brainless stem with leaves, grows towards the sunlight for the same purpose as the winged moth.

As humans, we sometimes forget to consider that all living beings have a willingness to survive. Although a plant or a moth may not have emotions, it will try anything in its power to prevent its death. So besides our appearances, what really is the difference between a plant, a moth, and a human?