I like to think of myself as a lover of nature. Growing up, I spent many many days outside running wild, and I can appreciate that, within nature, there isn't a lot of fair play. Nests get stolen, legs get broken, mates get hit by cars, babies are vulnerable, and when something is hungry, it eats something else. Extreme beauty needs extreme offensiveness to exist, life needs death, growth needs decay, circle of life etc, etc...
Overall I take an impartial stance to it. The reality of living is that we're a part of it. Obviously, as a species we aren't very good at respecting it or letting it be, and for a variety of reasons, we believe ourselves to be outside of its rules. It's usually a shock to realize that we aren't.
I hate nature today because a wasp attacked my baby. It landed on her, she grabbed it before I knew what was happening, and it ravaged her pudgy little hands while she understandably freaked out. I now curse the purpose of wasps and view the sweet smelling and previously beautiful lilacs outside as havens for these monsters; conspirators in the pain inflicted on my chubby little snuggle poop.
As a natural member of natural species – not to mention a mother – I feel entirely justified and satisfied in the heartless and rage-filled manner that I disposed of the offending wasp. Moms in nature go apeshit in regards to protecting their babies, and I did indeed go apeshit on that wasp.
I don't have a solid conclusion for this post, and I don't feel like getting extensively philosophical. I guess I just needed to express my disapproval of wasps to the void, and also to send out a warning to nature: I'm part of nature too, yo. I'm just as wild as any of y'all and I will lose my shit if you mess with my babies. Consider your waspselves warned.