interconnectionsI was looking at the contents of the shiny white friend this morning after I’ve used it and I was wondering how it was possible that I, who considered himself rather graceful and clean creature, could spend the whole night being literally full of shit.

And everybody is. At any time of the day, we are all full of human waste that we need to at some point, get rid of. All of us. Smart and pimpled kids, strong and prejudiced men, beautiful and jealous women. Skull beneath the radiant skin, guts behind the ribcage behind the chest, be it pumped up muscles or attractive breasts. The truth is that we are all organisms before we are persons, and it is stupid to deny, even though some time we try to and most of the time don’t think about at all.

Why do I think about it now? Well, that’s out of a certain thinking that comes to me in the spring time. Ever heard of spring time depression? Yeah. But I don’t think I am depressed today. I think it is simply me, more and more often, looking at the futility of living.

I’ve been around for four decades to find that it is harder to find a good belief to keep on living.

And before you may think it, I must say that I am not thinking of ending my life. Nope.

So, having said that, I am trying to hold on to a goal of getting published and helping others. Leaving a positive footprint, so to speak. Not an ecological footprint that I hope would be as small as possible, but a constructive social and cultural footprint of being more of a solution than a problem. That’s a positive thing, isn’t it?

But that is not enough, I think. Not enough to make me still see the futility of life. I can see that I’m still an animal that spends one third of a day being literally full of shit. I will be working, writing, publish a book for someone to read (thanks man… ugh), make a coffee company rich, try my best to be good to others and live honorably, die. I believe in reincarnation, so my spirit will travel on to some other dimension or maybe into another creature and I’ll end up fighting for survival, hunting for nuts for the rest of that life, but is that what I’m supposed to have a life for, enslaved by the work and style system?

I wonder if there is a point in trying to convince myself that something different may work? I keep walking forward and keep pushing the envelope, but I am not sure for how long I will care to keep trying and keep my cool. I mean, it worked so well for the last 13 years, why fix something that isn’t broken?

Maybe I’m supposed to fill my life with more enjoyment and excitement. But you know, my writing brings plenty of excitement. I think you may have no idea what it feels like creating worlds out of your imagination and committing their existence and vibration to paper or digital screen.

So, I thought of something.

All the world on this planet is simply a combination of living creatures (and here I put rather frivolously together in one category birds, mammals, reptiles, and insects), plants, rocks, soil, and light. The life, however, wouldn’t be happening if there was no interaction between these species and materials. If plants were out of the soil, they wouldn’t grow. If the living creatures, including humans, wouldn’t eat plants, most of them would die. If the creatures wouldn’t eat creatures, they’d die. If creatures wouldn’t build shelters out of plants and rocks, they would either get attacked by other creatures or freeze to death in certain areas of the world. And without light, most plants and many creatures will perish just as well.

The interaction between all these is what gives life to them all. Interaction is life. Creatures and plants get going through life, keeping breeding and existing because they’ve got it programmed in their brains and sinews. But humans are not so easy. We need a goal. A belief. A dream. A desire.

So maybe it is a different kind of interaction, known as communication? With the like-minded creatures. I could interact beyond writing. I could read more. I could hear more often what they/you say. Yet so often I am tired of what you have to offer. I heard you all for almost forty years. I feel like I could survive listening to the stories I tell myself. But if I do that, how long will it take before I realize that I somehow keep the same story going down the same loop?

I wonder if I am destined to live differently. You know, no future is set. The Nornes keep the scrolls of life written out, so no path I choose is wrong, as long as I don’t break social and moral laws. There are stars that gleam in the darkness that warn me of dangers of straying too far off the path of a noble life.

I often can’t stand people for how they treat themselves and others, but I also know of many people who encourage communicating for the benefit of both sides, and those who help others altruistically. I so much loathe the humankind for what they did to themselves as a race and to other species, that I truly don’t care for what happens to the world after I pass. Actually, I don’t mind the world to burn, but at the same time it warms me to know that there are people who have rebuilt their lives by being of service to others (I regularly see one of them in the mirror. Yes, right next to the toilet.) I read many examples of insanity and tyranny, as well true stories of heroism and care for one another. I so often see people being inconsiderate to everyone and everything around them that I don’t call myself a human. I am a wild creature, a wolf that cares for the pack’s well being.

Am I so full of shit that my eyes are turning brown besides being brown from birth? Birth, life, death, repeat. I need to continue interacting with you to make the repeat not feel so perpetually bleak and senseless, even when life seems to be going not so bad for me. One day the wolf will eat the sun and the world will perish, so proving something to ourselves to keep on living is pointless just for the sake of putting one foot in front of the other aimlessly. I need to keep interacting with others to learn new things to avoid stagnation of the mind. I need to keep a vital interest in pushing forward so that I wouldn’t walk blindly in the same learned lines and behave in the same programmed ways.


the image was copied from thanks.

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