Human Nature

Who am I?

This afternoon I assume the identity of a girl who has not yet graduated into womanhood, but rather stands on the cusp of not quite girl, but not yet considered adult enough in a world demanding permanent titles. This frozen shell of a girl remains stagnant and isolated within her mortal body at the bottom of a dirt-encrusted boat. The sound of waves lapping against the metal underside soothes the dull, demanding ache within my chest. Today I reflect on a girl whose curiosity dwells on the thought of purpose in all things life offers to a frozen soul. 

A creeping notion of impending irrelevance haunts my work in the civilized world. I am a practicing storyteller plagued with the inconvenience of poor memory; a sorry human living amid a pandemic causes the ever relenting, demanding search for a higher purpose. Not a personal sense— but rather searching for the universal meaning humans share amongst their natural world. Aimless and adrift, I am perplexed by the heaviness of thought, the oars resting long-forgotten on the metal seat. 

Is there a divine intervention? Or perhaps our origins begin in the theory of evolution. The story of Creation varies across the board. My only certainty is nature's soothing solitude during these days. She's an entity who welcomes me with open arms— a friend who offers solace while I sort out the hoard of demons. I'm mesmerized by the beauty surrounding the boat, and after suffering an overwhelming, all-consuming addiction to a computerized world, it seems refreshing and new. Perhaps a glitch in the modern world leads a young soul to the precipice of her world, beaconing to contemplate life in the confinement and comfort of a boat. I am still adrift in thought and reality. Eventually, I land amongst the rocky shore, beneath the green canopy of leaves. It's difficult, to resist the urge to examine every cell that creates the leaf. Nature, marvelous in its wonders eases the ache; we are so similar in composition. Delicate and fragile, these simple leaves.

I know that I am painfully, imperfectly human. Delicate and wrathful, yet somehow easily offended and misunderstood; so willing to let love blind one's true intentions. I too know how deep words cut. I am a human who forgets appointments, and feeds her cat a can of tuna every night at promptly ten p.m. I am a human living in a world that allocates value based upon online perceptions and delicate societal masks photoshopped and edited to their desires. On days such as today, I am a rather messy human, who dwells too deep within the confinements of depression and the American dream amidst a raging pandemic. Growing up, we learn of the world's history through the lens of pity and smugness. Perhaps even an egotistical lens at times. If only the dinosaurs knew of their doomed extinction. Egypt fell due to corruption, greed, and lust; we have surely learned from such lessons if we have made it this far into the modern world. The person I am today has assumed my importance within the world is vital and influential. Yet, on days such as this, nature sends constant reminders of my foolish assumptions. 

The overpowering sense of insignificance and irrelevance humans hold within the biological phases Earth endeavors is now painfully obvious as I watch the leaves rustle within the wind. Coffee and computers hold little relevance in the grand scheme. Before us, some beasts also thought themselves invincible, yet somehow found a fiery means of an end. The beasts contributed to the natural order, giving and taking life and resources in a fashion that held a balance. We forgone balance decades ago. 

For the duration of our existence, humans have taken this world for their own. We've built the seven wonders of the world. We've destroyed each other's kingdoms, burning them to ashes in our furious wake. We've conquered others and succumbed to the powerful, harassing force we consider higher purpose and divine will. We have changed and shaped the Earth and its creatures for our personal benefit, some actions too inconceivable to discuss. As a shortcoming, humans often center ourselves as the pinnacle species when in reality we remain only one of the many who succeeded in rising to overwhelming dominance. We have ruined nature such as these trees and waves in many parts of the world. Humans do not care to acknowledge the true irrelevance plaguing us. What will cause the collective realization that we hold vast irrelevance within the cycles of Earth? We are merely a grain of salt atop an ever-growing pile, who will also succumb to Earth's phases just as the others before us. No technology we create will disrupt the inevitable extinction looming over our shoulders. What will come after us? Will the Earth mend the scabs we leave behind? The invasive thoughts take root within my brain as I admire the untouched land. The roots of insignificance only grow with age; the suppressing notion that the world is, and will forever continue to wax and wane with life despite my soul's inevitable departure only solidifies the irrelevance that lays harbor within my gut. 

Who am I in an ever-evolving world? 

These thoughts frequently bother my consciousness. The thoughts steer my consciousness away from a digitalized world and back to a place where pure air vaporizes the implanted fogginess. Others whom I share my life with do not contemplate the world around us. Nature, to them, is a camping getaway for a weekend. After the weekend, they retreat to normalcy. Who am I to question the natural order of such things anyway? 

I admire the leaves, the boat still rocking with the gentle waves. I can try to describe them, perhaps attempt to string words together until an essence or likeness emerges that offers some semblance of what I see, but little could serve such beauty justice. To the leaf, I am nothing but a visitor passing by, a temporary witness to all of nature's bounty. However, beneath my scrutinizing gaze, the stunning pureness of such foliage feels like a strange cumulation of divine intervention. Nature has never needed human intervention to thrive, yet humans have relied on its bounty since the dawn of time. We rise, we will fall and fade into beautiful obscurity, irrelevant such as the creatures before us. Creation proves a mighty, incandescent phenomenon, even if I remain elusive and skeptical of my beliefs. On days such as this, a fact seldom emerges from the water, yet somehow, I find contentedness with impending irrelevancy.