Devoid of interest in life, moving only from day to day as flotsam on the tide. Moving with my fellow automatons to do the tasks of a bidding society, unawares that they too are part of the ebb and flow. Perhaps this is a gift; a conceit they hold close and cover under their jackets -- that they do not know the numbness of the world around them. If this be true, then their ignorance surely is bliss. In knowledge, to be sure, the educated are left listless and impotent. Give me not the pain of existence in the body, but rather in baser substances -- the feather of the wing, the hair on the cheetah. Let me be one of those so that I may at least take part in the exhilaration of flight or the chase. If I am to be part of anything, let it be of the basic - not the complex. Let me participate in the creative, not the commercial. Let us all carriage ourselves through life with the grander purpose of living it, rather than trying so in vain to understand, mold, or caress it into unnatural shapes and molds sure to break with time. If nature is to reclaim this all when we are gone, then perhaps it is because nature itself is the mold, and we are the cats, unherded, escaping a mold made for us long before we thought of questions as goals. Let us relax into the shapes nature has made for us, rather than try holding the ocean in a plastic cup. Marvel at the cups complexity, but look not too deeply into it's capacity -- for like this tumultuous life, you will find it lacking.
