The Flea, The Inch Worm and Me

Bear with me as I recount a story or two that popped up in my head lately.

There was an experiment in a laboratory with some fleas. They were put in a glass container, to observe, with a lid on top. Now fleas are tremendous jumpers capable of superman type leaps. They started jumping to get out, one could hear the tapping on the lid, a very long time.  This went on for quite some time, tap, tap tap.

Then after some time, the actual time frame escapes me, the sound of the taping stopped. But the fleas were still jumping up and down.  A decision was made to see what would happen with the lid removed.

The fleas continued to jump but only as high as if the lid was still on. Not one flea jumped out of the container.

2nd experiment. A round plate-like dish was produced. Around the edge several worms, inch worms I believe, one behind the other, and food, their favorite, was placed in the center of the dish for them to eat. So picture this now, a ring of worms that would follow the one in front only and a delicious meal awaiting them if they broke away from the pack.

They crawled around the dish, one after another, 24 hours a day for almost a week. Eventually they starved to death even though food was nearby.

A bit of naval gazing here. Am I the worm, the flea, both, none?
Has-is life become a conditioning journey of sorts? After  beating one's head against the ceiling for so long, (Flea) is there a form of acceptance with the hand one is dealt?  Do you continue on the same path, the path of least resistance, (worm) the safe route because it is all we know?
(You and me are interchangeable here.)

I don't have the answer, I don't know.
However I do know this is part one of two of my  musing on this subject.

to be continued

ray