February 3, 2015
Life comes at you, whether fast or slowly, and it’s really hard to understand the nature of things in their occurrence.
When we were children, we were under the governance of others and, thus, had no real sense of the source of order in the world—only instructions to follow. As more autonomy became ours, we struggled to make our way, likely finding ourselves rebelling against most things indiscriminately. Only as we approach adulthood are our questions of “why is this happening to me?” really supported by a sincere interest in knowing the nature of things.
Perhaps this is because we’ve finally accepted that the world does not revolve around us; rather, it would seem, it currently revolves around every living thing in existence (and maybe a few things not in existence). This seems unnatural, perhaps because it is; what species does not share a common purpose, common interests, mutual threats?
So I confess I’m not sure how to feel about things right now. Technology and innovation is rooting out humanity’s most dire issues, but not without a cost. Our cultural diversity—necessary to explore all possible solutions—wanes when an answer is found. The beautiful “differentness” of humans, which I love, seems to be fading; perhaps our generation is the last to have the opportunity to observe this wonder outside of a curated, preservationist presentation (or perhaps it was the generation before…).
I know how I feel about this loss, but I can’t help wonder if it’s just me again striving to have the world revolve around me. Would our species be better off if we jettisoned our differences and revolved around our commonalities? Does it matter what those commonalities are? Can I be happy with a world inhabited by, say, a peaceful and protected race of insipid, self-interested, gaudy and unlearned revelers?
Perhaps the dread I feel is not for what the world might become, but for a growing realization that this world isn’t mine and is not designing for my tastes—nor was it ever.