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  • There are to my mind, differential aspects of our evolution that bespeaks to the facets of our personalities that become the expressive nature of what type of life we lead, how we think, instinctive, unconsciously, or consciously, and the systems that extend from our collective minds.

    The waves of actions and reactions built within our senses show us patterns, tidal pools of thought we find ourselves caught within, riptides that pull us deeper into an ocean of confusion, shoals of danger, as storms rage around us, the rocks and cliffs of our goals, lighted only by the keeper of a tenuous light that swings our way in our moments of despair.

    We weather these patterns, those storms of nature and the choices we make, by finding safety wherever we can. We group ourselves, our biology pushing forward the needs of that defensive art of survival in the wilds of the world we grew to dominate; changing, transforming, becoming the artists whose art of defense is welded in the social destruction of minds lost to the collective view.

    The morphisms of choice created by the conception of our minds, feed both the realities we find in the waters of life, and the poison well we draw from in the floods that move across the ancient islands we find ourselves stranded upon.

    Loneliness draws us, the need to survive pushes the quivering heart to race in fear, fight and flight escape us, we circle the island from which we see the world we have made, each holding on in the hopes of finding more, finding someone of a like mind, a like fear.

    It is not the dichotomy of thought by which our choices are made, but rather a river of descent, through which we struggle to come ashore in the calm waters of a better world. Some come ashore quickly, the drowning mind resuscitated by those that lift us up, others swim for miles, struggling, looking to the light, looking to others they pass on shores they cannot reach, each moment, a panic, a visceral fear that take from us the thoughts of a life we once hoped to feel.

    Few find their souls strong enough to weather the ocean of torment they are doomed to drown within, raging, screaming, choking on the life they were born responding to. Others, those rare few, find solace in the peaceful winds of a magical birth, their minds lifted up to a view of heaven from which they draw a strength, a purpose, a spiritual guide that floods them with strength in the long swim ahead.

    Survival is what we earn, living is a choice we make, finding another to love, to share, to build a better world that looks out on the calm seas of the life we collectively learn to imagine is the heart of a purpose we all need to find. 


    Truth is, the nature of the shore we finally find ourselves drawn to, or thrown upon is the recognition that we have to make a choice. An introspective view of who we are, where we are, and where do we go from here.

    We can rage upon the shore, yelling, screaming at those who walk by, we can limp along, moving in circles, lost to the footsteps of confusion that are our own, or we can look to the light, that distant glow that fills us with a purpose in life, lift up those around us, lifting ourselves up with the purpose we find.

    For purpose is a life of love, that foundling in the river thrown to the waves of time, growing stronger as we weld it in the actions of how we treat those lost common souls that swim next to us in the dark.

    We can close our eyes to those around us, and in so doing lose the light that guides us, or open the eyes of our soul to the common nature of who we are.

    I watched a child die tonight, the little hand that held mine, a hand of God, the nature of which I can see in all those around me, when I look to see. It matters little to the child lost to the rages of a father gone mad, a mother that could not feel, or those that watched the child suffer along the way, never once reaching out to the waters that carried him away.