the Race of Man

It never fails to amaze me, that Man just won't keep to his place.

That for such small creatures, we can achieve such great things, and that we refuse to be put into place. Or even to define such a boundary. The achievements of science constantly surprise, defy and mind-boggle; while the daring of the arts constantly reaches new heights of soul-searching, searing beauty.

We are a conquering race, an undying race, passing down the baton of wisdom from one generation to the next, so that each generation may constantly and unfailingly surpass the first. It is a message that gives me infinite hope and makes my heart soar with so much pride, awe, and earnestness. In the constant struggle between man and nature, many have been lost, but as a species we have learned to wield wind, water, and fire. We have harnessed wild beasts and sailed the black expanses of outer space. We have seen things so small and so far away the naked eye couldn't possibly imagine, and we can hear things (and each 0ther) from such great distances away. We can traverse the skies and float on the oceans. We refuse to be put down, and we refuse to quit. We can dream big, and we can dream impossible-- and we can realize all those dreams.

To "live" or survive in the strictest sense, we need food. air. water. reproduction. But apparently humans need one more element : purpose. meaning. A question I am constantly seeking to answer, is why do we strive the way we strive, for things "unnecessary" to basic survival? Is there a higher calling, and if so, is it to a superior, or merely, to ourselves? or to nature?


(I know that for such small creatures, we are also capable of such massive destruction and horrific hubris, but that is for another [non-optimistic] post).