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On Humanity
D’you ever want to put your fist through a table? You don’t,
not because you’re not able, but in case some shocked person screams out “That’s
mahogany!” The agony of your personal Odyssey isn’t anything new. Don’t you
forget you’re not the first to get the hull of your trireme wet. A thousand
generations or more since ancient times have left their native shores and set sail
for distant climes. A thousand generations from a myriad of nations have braved
these seas before you learned how to breathe. Despite the odds stacked against
them your ancestors squared their shoulders, set their feet and met them.
They sailed through the crashing boulders and crossed the raucous seas. They
reached the Caucasus and retrieved the Golden Fleece. You are the successful
result of a billion years of evolution and with every revolution of the wheel of
fate your ancestors grit their teeth and set a faster pace. No other creature
has sent one of their own into outer space. Only one percent of our DNA
separates us from chimpanzees and we have crosswords and blackberry jam and
artistic jamborees while (nice as they are) they’re naked and live in trees.
The ease with which we put ourselves down is strange since the bricks of our
molecular arrangements were forged in stars. You are the dust of stars so you really must start getting some perspective. Do some good, write some ringing
invective. Make sure the world’s a better place by the time you leave, because,
sir and madam, I believe we are not the fallen descendants of Adam and of Eve.
We are risen apes. If that thought escapes you for a single day and you hate
your life and regret it or rue it, forget all else save that you’re human
and humans are great so I’m sure you’ll get through it.
One hopes you're well,
yrs,
ADWoodward
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