THE HUMAN, THE HORNED ANIMAL, AND THE MICROBE

—Psychonaut XIII

(suggested listening)


I don’t know if this is real or not, at least with any certainty. I wasn’t there to see this first this is lifehand, nor to compare its optical veracity against my memory. A preliminary scan is enough to cause me no reason of further examination. This looks like a real photo taken by a real camera, a photo produced without digital editing of any kind.

A horned animal fell into a crack in the rocks. It couldn’t get out. One would assume that when hunger kicked in so did the horned animal. One would assume that animal tried to get out of that hole throughout the entirety of it’s residence of it, minus resting periods; lack of activity due to lack of energy due to lack of nourishment. One would assume that after a period of being stuck in that rock formation, and unable to take in water or nourishment, that animal, whatever it was and however it came to be in that hole, died.

“Bad things” don’t happen to “good people”. As far as innocence goes on the human standard this animal would have been considered a genuine example of a good thing. Yet, it fell in a hole and died a horribly agonizing death. Something any of us would have pleaded to be saved from, one way or the other.

Rescue isn’t always life restoring, sometimes it’s the end to suffering at all.

This isn’t a good thing or a bad thing. This isn’t a call to your judgment to be heard.

This is life.
This is this universe.

Sometimes random causality produces favorable conditions, sometimes unfavorable conditions. Sometimes we get lucky and produce favorable conditions for ourselves and possibly even others. But we are driven by our self awareness, something most would say that at least differs in scope upon comparison between the two *manifestations* of it.

This is life.

Because that horned animal died there, leaving its earthly tissues to rot, millions of trillions of entire civilizations of organisms thrived. Perhaps they too have some form of self awareness, those little invisible things, except under sight enhancement, things had their own neurological systems they participated in, more than likely automatically, hard wired genetically, and felt autonomous doing it. Inside that closed system there was nothing to bitch about until the rot that gave it a dying chance was finally gone. And then another thriving civilization slowly, painfully died.

This is life. This is a perfect example of the random chaotic nature of this earth, and by evidenced reason, the universe it exists in.

This IS life.

The random causality of an asteroid leaving one side of the universe and just by some dumb luck, passing through THAT much space and time, and other bodies IN MOTION, yet meeting *this particular other body of mass* on the opposite side of the universe, while it is *also in motion*, with so much force, destroying most of the life on this planet and almost bringing evolution to a halt . Until it didn’t halt any longer.

This is life.

There is no control other than very minuscule conditions, and even then its not totally exclusionary against its targeted, less than favored condition. You don’t want to get rained on so you put on a raincoat. Most of the time you’re still going to have unmitigated contact between you and that very wet water. At the very least, when you take off that raincoat your hands will get wet. There is no *true* control. Putting on a helmet doesn’t save your life altogether. It mitigates damage to the head.

There was a man that had been obese all his life. At 22 the doctor told him, after examining him because of chest pains, that if he didn’t shape up he was going to die a horrible, painful death. This dude almost immediately starts taking better care of himself. For years he tweaks his diet, works out, quits drinking, drugs, smoking, etc. He goes to the doctor 4 years later, and is told he’s in really great physical condition. He goes back again at 28, the doctor is astonished. This guy is a perfect specimen of human health. He celebrates by going to the gym. He gets a shower, and walks out into the street to hail a cab. A city bus takes a right at a corner too fast, and in the attempted correction of the bus’s trajectory hits this dude square on. He died.

New Orleans, circa 2003: New Year’s eve is in full swing, life and celebration spilling into the humid streets of one of America’s most densely populated city’s. Somewhere near Canal and Bourbon, someone fires a single shot into the air. That shot shoots up as far as the energy given it can before gravity takes the reigns of the situation. That bullet spirals back down towards the source of it’s descent, winds pushing, as pulses of heat from the city streets blow back nudging its fall towards a random dude’s skull. Without warning, life stops.

Good things don’t happen to bad people. Bad things don’t happen to good people. Life, on a rock that is flying through a massive universe, happens, and not without random causality. Until it doesn’t, and then other life happens.

We are not favored in the universe because of what we are. We do not choose to be what we are (human, horned animal, or microbe). It just is. We just are. We are born that way through no perceptible choice of our own. Through no perceptible volition of our own, we come into existence. The human, the horned animal and the microbe.

To this author, such a comparison doesn’t inspire a spot of misanthropic frenzy. To this author this inspires quite the opposite of such a short-sighted snit.

Billions of years before any of us were born the universe produced chemicals that would later come in to contact with other agents, evolving how they would play together even later. Billions of years ago conditions we had no control over came to be in such a way as to produce air we could breath, and because of that we, the humans, the animals and the microbes, came into being; Or at least, the opportunity to come into being came into being.

Billions of years later, here we sit. A garden of delights for every sense we have at the ready. Snap your fingers and you could find some fun when you were a kid, before all that myopic darkness became your motif. Before discontent became of your wonder.

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