“Not for ourselves alone are we born”
Marcus Tullius Cicero 106BC-43BC
By now, you’ve got to my know my writing style or more precisely, lack there of. There are a few things I must share before getting to the story, which I haven’t even figured out yet.
First, and this a big deal, at least for me. I have begun writing my stories on Thursday evening, one day earlier than usual. Do you want to know why? I know you don’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I decided to record my stories, because they are actually scripts. I didn’t want to do it on Sunday morning, when I religiously publish them. I also have to focus on getting ready for my motorcycle ride, its own set of stupid. I have always needed two sittings to get them done, whether I mention it or not.
OK, we got that housekeeping out of the way. So, when is the last time I wrote about fishing? That’s right, weeks ago. This afternoon, I scoped out a new sight. It is over by the Ninini Point Lighthouse, and quite treacherous looking, with large, black volcanic rocks, jigsawed together and leading to some good sights. Rest assured, I’ll let you know how it goes. Pretty dumb comment, because you know I will. It will come up in a subsequent story, having nothing to do with the actual subject.
Did you ever hear of rucking? I know I didn’t until I stumbled across a story about this form of exercise. Very simply, you put on a weighted vest and exercise as aggressively as you care to. I have settled for walking up and down German Hill, where I live. I intend to keep my heart in my chest, not having it explode in a Monty Python moment.
OK, it is now time to get to story, whose intention has been on my mind the entire week. I was thinking I never write about what’s going on in the world and it might be time to veer away from my internal journey to the shit show that engulfs all of us. Then, I was thinking the last thing you need is another schmuck pontificating about the sorry state of affairs. The deadly details are an awful story and that is just not my bag and, in a way, too fucken easy to write about, leaving you feeling nothing, but empty.
I stepped back as far as I could and invented a word that has existed for hundreds of years. However, I felt like redefining it with a meaning you ain’t gonna find in Wikipedia. Class, the word is humanism. When I read about it, I quickly realized it was not close to what I had in mind.
It didn’t take long to find that above quote by Cicero, who gets credited for being one of the first to think of this idea of the independent, rational human being. I thought that sentence of his was going to launch me in the direction I wanted to go. After cutting and pasting that perfect quote, I looked at more of what he had to say. I was stunned when I found, “The Jews belong to a dark and elusive force, etc.”
This robe wearing, grape eating, bastion of erudition was a scumbag. No, I take that back. He was human and then my story started writing itself in my mind, until this evening. I realized the word has been used in a terribly elitist way, no different than we look at each other today, each one better than the other.
When I invented the word, I was thinking about it in a way that belongs to every single one of us, no matter where we live, no matter our color or religion, no matter our wallet size. We went wrong millennia ago, when the primary focus became our differences and the supremacy of one of the other. I gotta tell you, they are all goddamn myths, perpetrated by a kind of eternal insecurity.
What exactly is that makes one person better than another? Even if Elon Musk, who is not nearly as smart as he thinks he is, thought he had an answer, I would bitch slap that motherfucker. Wait, no I wouldn’t, because it would make me just like him, with a slightly smaller bank account. We now have a latter day, orange-skinned, Hitler, actually referring to humans as vermin. The first of several definitions in Merriam Webster defines it as, “small common harmful or objectionable animals (such as lice or fleas) that are difficult to control”
Over the course of our history, we have gifted ourselves with religions and their God(s). Keep in mind that everything they have said has been written by followers, often hundreds of years later. Hell, they’re evening writing about them today.
Yes, I know, Charlton Heston brought down the Ten Commandments inscribed by God, while he hid behind a burning bush. I know this to be true, because I saw the movie when I was a little kid. From one scene to the next, his hair grew even whiter than mine, which has taken me 78 years. Later on, he became president of the NRA.
Somewhere in the Old Testament is the following, “You are a people holy to the Lord your God. The Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession” Man, has that been a mixed blessing, no pun intended. Somewhere, in every religion, I am guessing there is something like that, indicating the supremacy of one religion over all others. How’s that been working out, kids?
For those of you, who are deeply religious, I beg your forgiveness. I am only human and can’t possibly know all there is to know, but I am just trying to make a point here, so cut me some slack.
When I was thinking about my idea of humanism, it had nothing to do with any of the trimmings and trappings. I am looking through this huge window and there are nothing, but hundreds and hundreds of newborns. Not a single one looks like the other, living, breathing unduplicated baby-snowflakes. What happens to this army of sameness, splintering into jagged pieces that find it impossible to be in that room ever again?
Why isn’t there one single voice of a blaspheming heretic, screaming at the top of his lungs that we are all humans, every single one of us? How can we be doing these things to each other? We all start out in that enormous room, wrapped in the same blankets, crying the same cries, crinkling our little hands, wanting to be loved and cared for.
I am sadder than sad and that is what I have to say about the state of things. It is why I tell my grandson to find joy whenever and wherever you can, a treasure needing no map to find. It is right here, right now. Open your eyes. Open your heart. Be human.
I am not sure why I have now started ending all of these stories with one word.
Blessings
DON’T WANT TO READ AND RATHER LISTEN?
Not exactly what I wanted to think about today but thanks for the wake up call.
That’s the idea Glad it worked. Thanks, man.