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Image Are we supposed to be here? I can’t answer that one but I will tell you this; “We don’t belong here.”

To live is a gift. It’s a gift too easily taken for granted. It’s a gift too easy to squander, and too easy to take. The history of mankind overflows with innumerable lives cut short by an endless list of circumstances. Christianity has given us four horsemen to blame for everything. Other faiths each have their unique views but boiled down, death, is still the end of a life.

Two half-measures of DNA converge to create an individual. That individual is immediately one that has never existed before. No one knows when the soul coalesces so that aspect precipitates endless argument over when a human life begins and who has the right to control the emergence of another vessel of sentience. The sentience itself gives rise to questions without answers that all humans think they have the right answers to. At some point the argument becomes a sad waste of time. We think, therefore, we are. But what are we? We are whatever we call ourselves. We are more than we perceive ourselves to be. We are always less than we have the potential to be.

Wherever we are born, however we are raised, whatever we learn, and whoever we live long enough to become are the root causes in how we affect the world we live in. It’s a world we have no choice but to share with the rest of mankind. Too few of us ever actually learn how to get along and too many of us react to that shortfall with destructive effects. We live what we learn and we teach what we live.

Have we clawed our lonely way out of the slime over eons of time? Have we been helped along the way by means divine or otherwise? Our knowledge leaps ahead gradually extending our lives while we take farther leaps learning how to destroy. It’s as if two steeds are in a race to whatever end comes. Two behemoths thunder around the track of existence. We are the life that makes up the track. Hooves plant, crush, and push off. Life is trampled by the uncontrollable. Looking back is an afterthought. Afterthought is the child of a process that has no known beginning, nor any known end, except for the forlorn hour of our death.

We don’t belong here. But nonetheless, here we are. Many of us try to make the most of it. Many of us try to take the most we can from everyone else. We’ve struggled to ecstatic heights. We’ve floundered in dark depths. We’ve helped those who’ve fallen along the way. We’ve also kicked the same out of the way and called it progress. Is this life all there is? Every possible answer is the right one. So, let us roil in the esoteric-ness of it all. Ignorance is no excuse for not fighting for what you believe in. We have the capacity to revel in the light but more often than not we have to forge thru the darkness hoping hooves don’t find us in either case.