We spill out,
like primordial ooze
into the cracks
and crevices of our differences.
In every direction we spread,
but our bulk stays together,
driven from one gorge to another
in time to an unseen beat.
Our brief moments of thought,
get locked into position,
like dogs caught fighting
over some insignificant morsel.
We, who can create,
long before we can understand,
and yet understand
so much less than we can know.
A species lost between
our origins and our destiny,
but hardly ready for
carrying our ultimate grace.
Hopeful and hopeless,
bright and dim,
foolish and foolhardy,
we keep traveling.
Never to forget,
that even in the darkest corners,
we still need to stop, to think
and to appreciate our essence.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Clueless
If it wasn't for an entire absence of clues, most people would be somewhat aware of their environment, their place in it and the upcoming events that are gradually building up to bowl them over. But instead, they are lost in themselves, stuck on what they don't know, as they blunder onto the highway only to end up as more fresh roadkill, in a society of people competing for unique and novel ways to be flattened.
That, it seems, is the ironic weakness of intelligence. It gives us just enough to think that we know more than we actually do; that we have more than we actually do; that we understand more than we actually do. And in this deception people get hopelessly caught flailing around like rapidly dying fish, flung out of the water while spasmodically trying to change things, convinced of their own rather doubtful superiority.
But the joke is that most of the people, most of the time, in most places, have switched into some held-back mode were what they barely know is not even close enough to what they think they know. And they lack any and all capacity to see themselves in any other way then just from the standard delusions that they've so carefully constructed around their lives in an attempt to hide from reality. Mostly we're not Einstein; we're not Brad Pitt; we're not Wayne Gretzky; we're just a troop of half-dead, half-hearted, half-crazy creatures that stumbled down from our perches way too recently to be coping with the normal types of insanity in which we are now all drowning. Welcome to our modern world. You only get it, if you know you don't.
That, it seems, is the ironic weakness of intelligence. It gives us just enough to think that we know more than we actually do; that we have more than we actually do; that we understand more than we actually do. And in this deception people get hopelessly caught flailing around like rapidly dying fish, flung out of the water while spasmodically trying to change things, convinced of their own rather doubtful superiority.
But the joke is that most of the people, most of the time, in most places, have switched into some held-back mode were what they barely know is not even close enough to what they think they know. And they lack any and all capacity to see themselves in any other way then just from the standard delusions that they've so carefully constructed around their lives in an attempt to hide from reality. Mostly we're not Einstein; we're not Brad Pitt; we're not Wayne Gretzky; we're just a troop of half-dead, half-hearted, half-crazy creatures that stumbled down from our perches way too recently to be coping with the normal types of insanity in which we are now all drowning. Welcome to our modern world. You only get it, if you know you don't.
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