If ants are such busy workers, how come they find time to go to

Hear the words of Marie Dressler, wrapped in wit yet carrying the fragrance of wisdom: “If ants are such busy workers, how come they find time to go to all the picnics?” At first glance, it seems but a jest, a light remark to draw a smile. Yet within it lies a mirror for humanity, a reflection of our restless toil and our endless search for balance between labor and delight. For what are ants, if not the image of tireless effort? And yet, even in their diligence, they appear at our feasts, uninvited, ever ready to seize joy amidst their labor.

The ancients spoke often of the ant. In the Proverbs it is written: “Go to the ant, O sluggard, consider her ways and be wise.” They admired its foresight, its labor, its unceasing motion. But Dressler, with a touch of humor, invites us to look deeper: the ant, though a creature of discipline, is also a creature of opportunity. It does not live on work alone, but finds its way to the bounty that life lays before it. And here, she asks—should not humans also learn from this balance?

Consider the tale of the Roman general Cincinnatus. He was a man of toil, laboring in his fields when Rome called him to save the state. He rose, commanded, triumphed—and then returned to his plow. Like the ant, he knew both labor and feasting, duty and life’s simpler pleasures. He did not abandon work, but neither did he deny himself the bounty that comes when opportunity appears. He stands as proof that true wisdom is not found in endless busyness, but in knowing when to pause, to gather, and to partake.

Marie Dressler herself, as an actress of stage and screen, knew the weight of labor. She toiled long in an unforgiving industry, yet her humor gave her balance. In her quip about ants and picnics, she offers not only laughter, but counsel: one may work hard, but one must also learn to enjoy what life brings. If we only labor, we become machines. If we only feast, we become idle. But if we, like the ant, can weave both together, then our days will be rich and whole.

But take heed, O seekers of wisdom: the danger lies in excess. There are those who hide from life in endless work, never tasting its joys. There are others who abandon duty for feasting, squandering their gifts. Dressler’s question pierces both extremes: the ant is diligent, yet it does not miss the banquet. The lesson is not to forsake work, but to remember that labor is for living, and life is to be enjoyed as well.

The lesson is clear: guard your time well. Work with diligence, for the harvest does not come to the idle. Yet when joy appears—whether in friendship, in laughter, or in the simple beauty of the day—do not turn away. Be like the ant, who though ever busy, still finds its way to the feast. For wisdom is not only in toil, but in savoring the fruits that toil makes possible.

Practical steps lie before you: schedule your labor with discipline, but make space also for rest and delight. Cherish your meals with loved ones as sacred gatherings, not hurried interruptions. Seek balance: work hard when it is time to labor, and rejoice deeply when life offers its picnics. In this way, your life will not be swallowed by endless striving, nor wasted in idle pleasure, but enriched by both.

Therefore, let Dressler’s words remain with you: “If ants are such busy workers, how come they find time to go to all the picnics?” Take them as laughter, yes, but also as counsel. For in the balance of duty and joy lies the fullness of life, and only those who honor both will know the sweetness of their days.