Before reading this, you probably want to run your fingers through your hair, brush off your shirt and pants, and have a friend examine those places that your hands and eyes can’t reach. Done?

If you’ve come across a caterpillar, keep it in your palm as you read this article for dramatic effect. If not, then take the time to walk around campus until you find one, preferably alive. No need to rush, there’re plenty for everybody. I can wait.

Now get real close to that bug. Look it in its eyes, peer into its soul. Ask it how its day is going, see if it wants to grab a beer later. Check if any of its family, friends or lovers (former or present) have been power-washed lately or if they’ve devised any clever ways to counter its formidable arch-nemesis, the predatory spined soldier bug. (I have to wonder whether those soldiers volunteered for their duty, and if so whether they are worried that their tours may be extended with no prior notice).

During this little exchange you two may want to work through any past emotional issues you’ve had, whether they stem from you not showing enough affection to the caterpillar when it was a baby or from that time the caterpillar hooked up with that guy it knew you were totally crazy about. I mean, even though you probably would have just fooled around with him then never returned his calls, that’s just stepping over a line (about thirty times, in the case of the caterpillar).

I hope that you and the caterpillar have worked out your existential conflict now. I must say that, after spending an extended period of time in a developing country, I am more concerned with bugs inside me — i.e., amoebas and parasites — than with having bugs such as caterpillars on me. Moreover, caterpillars seem amazingly benign because: 1. They don’t bite, 2. They don’t smell, 3. They don’t transmit diseases, 4. They don’t stain your clothes, 5. They’re so cute! You just wanna take ‘em home and breastfeed ‘em.

Of course it’s perfectly reasonable to not want to be covered in bugs. But the larger issue that the caterpillar brings to my mind is that when we’ve been raised in comfort, we usually turn into people who can’t live without it. I have heard from countless law students that they can’t work in public interest because they grew up with certain amenities, and they just can’t give them up now. Working for legal aid is a nice thought, but how can you live in a posh neighborhood with nice cars and send your kids to private school on that sort of salary? (You can’t, by the way).

We all crave the finer things in life, and it seems to follow that we wouldn’t give up these things unless we were forced to. What we may not realize though is that in striving for the classy status symbols that riches can afford us, we might make it hard (if not impossible) to live the lifestyle that accompanies working toward social justice, speaking up for the disadvantaged and leveling the playing field for the worst off among us.

On face it’s hard to imagine why anyone would tolerate being covered with insects when they could just as easily release nematodes and retake White Plaza for the human race. But in the larger scheme of things, maybe being inconvenienced, uncomfortable and annoyed can enable us to better honor the things that really matter to us in life: Our ideals, our beliefs and our values. That’s worth sparing a caterpillar or two, isn’t it?

If you would like to be inconvenienced, uncomfortable and annoyed, drop Vishnu a line at vishnus@stanford.edu.