And we are still adolescents aren't we? We swing reason about like a sword, shouting over each other, proclaiming our exclusive claims to absolute truth. We cling to old superstitions and new ones alike. We worship strips of paper and shiny objects. We, with the technical ingenuity and the sheer manpower to produce food and shelter for all of mankind squander our resources on the useless rich and let vast populations writhe in agony.
I myself am caught in embarrassing bouts of weakness, torn in various directions by wrenching emotions I can't find any use for, attributing original causation to links in greater, even infinite causal chains, clawing desperately for meaning.
But within me is a new consciousness, growing, budding out of the soil, showing itself in glimpses but remaining stubbornly hidden. I write and it speaks to me in whispers, I strike the guitar and it sings to me faintly, I dive into the electric internet ocean and am surrounded by it, omnipresent but hesitating to identify itself. I am certain we are on the verge of a great new era, but we are grinding along on firmly pressed brakes, stomped into the ground by fearful, spoiled infants.
The earth tears, but it will repair itself. The question to ask is, will we make it to a new age of enlightenment before the planet reestablishes equilibrium on its own accord?
Let it be, a voice says. It will come in due time. It will determine itself.
