The Human Condition

Our cozy little planet is presumed to have existed for over four and a half billion years. In the most recent three of those, it has been teeming with life. They come and go, and more than we will ever know of. The truth is there have been many species of fascinating creatures that crawled, squirmed, floated, swam, galloped, trotted, scurried, walked, ran and flown throughout our ever changing environment called Earth. Each had its mechanism for being. Each had the means with which to move about, perpetuate and thrive; the means with which to process some form of cognition, or maybe at the very least the means with which to perceive. Each had within it the mechanism responsible for ending the inadequate; the unnecessary; the obsolete. Some of these creatures persisted for millions of years before the mechanism within them led them down that narrowing path. To appear as if they never existed or at best to forever sequel into a display at the Smithsonian. To be something to learn from. We humans, the latest upgrade model of hominid, are no different. We have our own mechanism of survival, perpetuation, and ultimately, our own demise, “The Human Condition.”

The human condition, it mars the soul, and burdens the spirit. It is the initiating tool, cycle and grand culmination of all of societies mistakes and undoings. Whether you think of it as sin, failure, shortcomings, ethical or moral turpitude, or unhealthy normal reactions to abnormal stress. It divides us from harmony. It unites us in doleful conspiracy. It diminishes our value as a species. It threatens to resolve our issues with finality. To cure the infection we fester upon this planet by allowing us to render ourselves onto the path of extinction. We can learn to heal the wounds of the human condition. Treat the symptoms, and practice good preventative care, and we will prevail. Cure the human condition and we will evolve to something better; something truly amazing.

Friday, September 14, 2012

How beautiful is perfect... Very!

A woman with a scar; A bloom with tiny petals; A child with congenital defects; An old car with rust, tattered seats and a busted head light; A three legged dog; A poem written on a parcel of torn card board, held up with a push pin.  To love these things with such perfect imperfections, is to realize that they are in fact, that ~ Perfect...

Quote Patrick B Oviedo Jr. Friday Sep. 14 2012

No comments:

Post a Comment