For all our brain power, wisdom, and so-called knowledge, man has got to be one of the stupidest animals on earth. Not only have we not evolved, we haven’t even
progressed. We make the same mistakes over and over and over again, on an individual, societal, and universal level. At least other animals have natural instincts, we don’t even have that. We pass through life for what purpose?
Well isn’t that the ultimate question!
I don’t think animals or plants wonder what is their purpose in life. I reckon this is both our major curse and our major privilege. Which one would you choose it to be?
It’s true, people enabled with sensitive intelligence, are quite a small bunch among billions of braindead sheep. (The poor animal really doesn’t deserve the metaphor.)
A political leader is seldom intelligent; he’s usually just furnished with huge ego and lots of money. And that’s about it. People usually follow someone they can identify with, and they more likely identify with power, money and deceit rather then the lot less attractive and lot more hard working honesty. Because, in the end, everything just comes down to laziness and fear of death. Man is a lazy, fearful, son of a bitch (again, nothing personal with the animal).
I spent these past few weeks trying to think over the common assumption that human being is great because, yes, he does a lot of bad things, but then he creates music and arts and literature and so on. I knew there was something there but I wasn’t really convinced by this theory. It’s true, we do have instincts of violence as well as tenderness and care; it’s true that we’ve got a whole theatre of feelings and potential behaviour within ourselves, but hey, when I look around what I mostly see is spit images of sheer stupidity. The “missing link” as it’s so well described by Tom Robbins.
Stupidity I condemn more than evil. It’s more dangerous, more catastrophic and it leads exactly where the world is going. But then there are people bathed in what I like to call “sensitive intelligence”. It’s an instinctual wit that makes them aware of what really matters in life and how far we are from getting it, and how many obstacles are laid before us, even before we are born, to prevent us from getting there.
Sensitive intelligence makes you breathless before an astonishing panorama, makes your heart beat so fast it can explode as you listen to a beautiful melody, makes you cry with joy before the simple beauty of life.
I think everybody have the potential to get there. They just forgot. True artists at times can climb up there, because being an artist, ultimately means beating at nature’s tempo, recognising that the universe clockworks are perfect but we are not, and if we don’t hurry adjusting to it, “it” is going to go without us. We are finite so that the world can be infinite.
Maybe that’s our purpose.