In light of our ancient, wild heritage, it’s interesting that we imprison ourselves in flat, stale, climate-controlled boxes filled with every convenience, where we grow sicker and weaker with each passing year. We’d be better off climbing on the counter than cleaning it, swinging from the chandelier, and chattering from atop the nightstand and dining table. Such precision. Such order. Such safety. Such security. Teams of professionals trimming our bushes and manicuring our lawns, experts rushing in to replace our thermostats and tinker with our various devices. Fertilization, optimization, sterilization, all in a state of rank, linear predictability. But look at the view! Isn’t it breath-taking? Isn’t it grand? You can see the whole city from here, the twinkling lights, each representing a private drama, one more late-night TV show, a mindless scroll through social media, a gut-ache, a mind-ache, a heart-ache, the sad gasp of a fresh bag of chips. And it’s all so . . . easy.
I’m smiling, of course. Civilization is wonderful, even if we avoid our neighbors and don’t know their names, and even if all of this having and wanting and owning and getting destroys the environment and creates hunger, poverty, and war.
Cracks in the sidewalk — henbit and shepherd’s purse — flowers lighting the way.
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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet