Humans are predisposed to suffer from the illusion of control. We tend to think that we are in control of our fate. But to be an inhabitant of earth is to be a passenger on a puny planet in a undistinguished solar system circling a dim star in an overwrought galaxy hurtling through space at an inconceivable speed to an unknown destination.
Do you still feel in control?
We think of ourselves as the center of the universe. But our existence here may be purely accidental and is the relative equivalent of being so insignificant that you would have to multiply the entire substance of earth an exponential number of times to rise to the level of a pimple on a gnat's ass in a swarm of noseeums circling a 40 watt porch light in a run down neighborhood. To think otherwise is to imply that God only exists as long as humans exist to believe in God's existence.
Why are we here?
Why are the rules as they are?
How certain are you that you really exist? Can you prove it? What if you are somewhere asleep now dreaming about a dream you imagined? Or perhaps the crazy people are really the sane ones and all the rest of us merely class A nut jobs who have simply managed to overtake the asylum?
What makes it real for you? And does it even matter if it is real?
Do you really drive your automobile; are you in control of it or is it in control of you? Perhaps the whole thing is just a conspiracy between delusion and coincidence?
Is the gravity that binds us all to the earth truly a force of nature or nothing more than a really bad case of group think? Would we all float away if we all simply stopped believing?
Are you always alone, even in the midst of a crowd and yet you find the silence of your solitude deafening?
When the laces to our sneakers become hopelessly irretrievably knotted is it better to cut out the knot or to find the patience to methodically retrace the path that led to the knot.
We cannot command the winds and the waves of the sea to do our bidding. But we can build a vessel and hone our skills to harness the power of the winds and the sea to our desired ends. Regardless of your station, when you realize that we all are but pawns in a grand scheme that was set in place long before we figured out where our asses were you have taken the first step. (Do you even remember when you first realized you had an ass?)
The system is specifically designed so as not to be fixed. In short, it is a fool's errand to solve the world's ills. And so we are all little gerbils running furiously on our little wheels going nowhere fast, but making really good time.
Where do you sign up?
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