Human Duty

All things have free will to the extent nature intends; as atomic particles combine over time and organisms grow more complex, their power to control that will defies nature for the sake of self-preservation.  We call this instinct.  Evolution occurs in this see-saw between nature’s gross brutality and an entropic atomic will struggling to break free.  For the sake of immortality – survival in some form or another; in the natural world, the survival of a species, and more specifically, survival of individual genetic designs.  This is why animals mate and plants bear fruit. Once physicality stabilizes, ethereal free will struggles again to reach out beyond instinct.  Here creatures become social; they use their sensibilities to convey intent – at first, simple messages.  Communications and gestures that create societies – murders of crows, parliaments of owls, schools of dolphins, flocks of sheep, packs of wolves, all the way to nations of us.

Though, evolutionarily, to our knowledge, we are the only social animals who realize the transcendence of space and time – this separates us from the rest.  This capacity to realize gives us a practical understanding of fundamental universal laws that we then harness to reach closer to absolute free will, away from gross matter.  Most truly shown through human history, in its collective philosophies that independently fortify virtually identical cosmic faiths through various practices.  From language to libraries, in paper and bricks once; now, through media – in electric zeros and ones in a computer.

A time-defying conveyance of unitary consciousness that goes far beyond survival to the redemptive and burdensome place of responsibility.  We know too much and collectively understand enough to realize our full potential.  To understand our instincts and go as far as restraining instinct to self-preserve on a level more fundamental than material.

Of the chaotic tandem of cosmic chance and material rigidity that creates attractions between atoms and all they combine to become.  A complementary and supplementary dynamic that creates everything from children to oxygen.

With no expectations, nor standards. Beyond possession.

 

Dover and the Dove

There was once a man who didn’t believe in God.

Born into a family of priests, he felt out of place.

He believed only in what he sensed with his senses.

And God, he theorized, did not exist in those places.

One day his father fell gravely ill.

His family gathered to pray for his father.

As they prayed, his father took his last breath.

It was God’s wish, they said to his sobbing mother.

A melancholy overcame him that day

He left home and wandered into the hillside

He was angry with his father, his mother – with God.

He was angry that everyone saw God except him.

As he lamented, a bird’s nest fell in front of him.

He looked up to find a hawk mauling a dove.

Feathers rained down from the disturbed treetop.

In the nest were two cracked eggs and a baby chick.

The man quickly picked up the chick onto his palm.

Its eyes were barely open and death had taken its mother.

So the man sat beneath the tree, cradling the baby dove.

He picked insects from the ground and fed the chick.

In its care, the man lost track of time.

Weeks went by as he sat beneath that tree.

One day the chick turned into a dove and flew away.

An unexplainable feeling overcame him that day.

In euphoria, he skipped deeper into the woods.

He would have danced his way to heaven’s gate.

Except, all of a sudden, the sloth bear that stood in his way.

She was dining on a honey comb when the man pranced in.

Enraged, she charged at him; her claws grazing over his chest.

His dusty robe turned red as he wheeled from a nervous quake.

Gathering all his strength, he desperately ran away from the beast.

Where he was he no longer knew, as he came upon a rivulet.

At the bank, he collapsed – his brows drowsed.

Then his senses blanked; a darkness overcame him.

In the heart of that darkness he heard a dog’s bark.

Then, a point of faint light appeared.

The light got brighter and brighter.

A chattering got louder and louder.

Then suddenly, he opened his eyes!

He was surrounded by his family.

His mother had bloodshot eyes.

His brother had grown creases.

His cousins huddled by his shoulders.

Their dog had nestled by his feet.

To him, it all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago he was running from a bear.

But in the universe outside him it had been weeks.

Then he heard a unison of gasps, cries and weeps.

The dog began barking and short-pacing on the bed.

The man had a dull pain in his head; his chest ached.

But he was thankful he had lived through his trek.

He did not know how, but he had been saved.

And just then, the dog darted out of the room.

On the umbrella tree in the courtyard, a dove had perched.

The territorial dog began barking, pawing and clawing the tree.

And the man’s brother said, “Oh, it’s that blasting bird again.”

“What bird?” the man asked.

“The one that’s been harassing Dover for weeks,” the brother said.

“That’s how we found you.”

“Dover chased it into the woods the day we found you out there.”