Notes from the Desk – Trip III

Sentience is either a gift or a curse.

A line. One line connects us and our present day emotions and adventures to the tiniest of life. We could sneeze out a million of them in a second and yet they are our ancestors..? 

This could be the case. Some scientist somewhere could reel off all sorts of formulae and equations and give me names for different geological periods and the effect of the sun on the leaf and the development of the brain and sit back, pleased with him or herself that the sticky labels by which they define themselves, and all of us, incidentally, are still firmly attached to our lapels. 

Ask them was love is, though. Ask them why some people want to kill themselves and others think that they are Jesus. Ask them what gravity is or how it is that the moon and the sun are aligned so as to appear precisely the same size from earth; why it is the that moon always shows the same face and why we spend more money developing ways to kill people than to heal them. 

Sentience is either a gift or a curse. It should be a gift, perhaps. It should be a means by which we are able to raise ourselves from the primordial forest floor and appreciate the balance, understand the ways that thing work. Instead it is a means to feel greed and the desire to conquer and control. It is a desire to acquire and then a fear of losing what we have gained. It is vanity, it is jealousy, it is… 

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