Life is strange. I'm just a collection of cells. Why should a collection of cells have any sense of life or being? Why is it important for me to be aware that I'm alive and that I one day must die? Why not just live on instinct, with an innate sense of what I must do or not do to survive? Why have all these emotions? Why feel such intense pleasure and pain, sorrow and longing, hope and fear? What good do all these feelings accomplish? Fear may keep me alive, but it may also cripple me. Pain is a warning, but also a torment. And why would I ever deserve pleasure of any kind? What is it's purpose? Is it just a reward for good behavior? Then why do I sometimes feel it even when I'm not on my best behavior, and then afterwards feel guilty? What good does that accomplish?
I'm just a collection of cells, that somehow lives and breaths and walks about and talks and writes things such as this. Why should I ever be anything more than just a creature, like any other creature, surviving on instinct and intuition, and one day dying alone to little account. But somehow, I'm more. What makes me more? What makes man more? I have something more. What should I do with it? What can I do?
I have this knowledge, this conscience, these feelings. What am I supposed to do with them now? Is there something greater than me? Call it God or science or nature or humanity or whatever you want, there's something more at work here. Why else should I feel the things I do, things that don't seem to be directly linked to my survival. Why is there more to me than simply surviving? Why is there more to any of us? What are we doing with it? What will I do with it, with this strange and truly unfathomable life I've been given? What will you do?
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Three
Three little pigs, all afraid of the big bad wolf, each trying to do what they can to be safe.
Ask the first pig why he built his house of straw, and he will tell you that's what he could afford. He had substantial funds once, just like his brothers, but his closest friend was sick and needed help and he gave away all he could, leaving him with very little in terms of seed money, just enough seed money to grow the straw needed to build his home which the big bad wolf then destroyed. Ask the first pig how his anger flared at the wolf and he will tell you he is not angry, just sad. The wolf was hungry and the first little pig was nothing more than food to him. He wishes the wolf had just found someone else to eat. Then maybe that wolf wouldn't have ended up as a stew himself.
Ask the second pig why he built his house of sticks and he will tell you that was in keeping with his desired level of income. The second pig had actually made a great fortune, greater than either of his brothers, but he found it was destroying him. He ignored both his friends and family and had more possessions than he knew what to do with. Realizing the downward spiral he had thrown his life into, he gave away as much as he felt was reasonable, to the poor and needy and such, leaving himself with enough to build a modest home of sticks. He thought it would be sufficiently safe and secure, until the wolf came a-knockin'. For the first time in a long time, the second pig wished he had left a little more than himself, but as he and the first little pig fled together to the third and final brother's house, he looked around at the other homes surrounding him, the homes had helped his poor and downtrodden neighbors build, and he knew in his heart he had done the right thing.
Ask the third pig why he built his house of brick and he will tell you it was the best house his money could afford. His brothers were fools for giving their money away to others, he will say. Still, he loves them, and would never turn them down as they fled to him begging to be let into his wonderful home. They were exhausted and out of breath, so he let them relax in the guest sitting room and had his butler bring them some tea. And then the wolf came a-knockin'. Foolish wolf. Silly wolf. Even if he managed to get in the front door, the alarms would sound and security would be here in a matter of seconds to drag him away. But that didn't seem good enough to the third little pig. Not sporting enough. So he turned off his alarm system and let the wolf think he had a chance.
The first two pigs seemed afraid and even a little sad. "Maybe we can just give him some bread and fruit," the first little pig suggested. "He's just hungry. I know he thinks he wants to eat us, but maybe we can show him there's a better way."
"Yes," the second little pig agreed. "I have to admit, I'm not so sure it will work, but it's at least worth a try. He's just hungry. And maybe he doesn't even have a home of his own. I've never seen him before. He must have come a long way just to find something to eat. It certainly shouldn't be us, but isn't there something we can give him?"
"No," the third little pig disagreed. "I have earned all I have, just as the two of you did before you gave it all away, and I'm keeping it for myself, for us. I'm not giving it away to some angry, cruel wolf who wants to eat my brothers and me. This wolf will get what he deserves, which is nothing and worse."
The first little pig's eyes grew wide. "What are you thinking of doing, brother?"
The third little pig lets a sly grin creep across his face. "Tonight, boys," he says, "the wolf shall not feast on us, we shall feast on him."
And so, reluctantly, the first two pigs go along with the plan of their older brother. They sadly help him taunt and tease the wolf until the wolf decides to climb down the chimney where the third little pig has a bot of boiling water and his finest chef waiting. The third little pig's mouth begins to water as he watches his chef work. Meanwhile, the first two little pigs huddle in a corner in the second guest bedroom with their hooves over their ears, trying to drown out the wolf's screams of agony.
When the third little pig calls his two brothers for dinner, they are reluctant to come. They cannot think about how delicious wolf must be, as their brother is thinking, they can only think about the screams and the pain the wolf must have felt being boiled alive. So as their third brother digs in, they push their food aside. And sit in silence. The third little pig looks up at them. "What's wrong, brothers?" he asks. "We had a great victory today. Eat, eat! If you are lamenting the lose of your homes, don't worry, you are welcome to stay with me as long as you wish! I may even consider giving you loans to build new homes." He sneers. "As long as you choose not to just give it away."
At that the two little pigs glance at each other. The second nods to the first. "Good-bye, brother," the first says. They stand, each pouring his wolf stew back into the pot. The second takes the entire pot off from the table as they turn and walk away. The first helps him as it is very large.
"Where are you going?" the third little pig cries out. "Why are you taking my wolf?"
The first little pig turns back to him, a deep sadness in his voice, "This isn't your wolf," he said. "He came to me first and I wish I had done the right thing."
"What?" the third pig shouts, "Let him eat you?"
The second pig sighs and shakes his head. "Not let him be eaten," he replies. "But what's done is done, and there seems only one right thing to do now."
And the two little pigs lug the giant pot out of the brick house, to the second pig's neighborhood where they distribute it to the poorest, most hungry families without telling them a thing about what's in it. They considered dumping it out, but decided it would go to better use feeding those who were truly in need. Perhaps two wrongs don't make a right, but at least the second wrong was more right than the first, they decided. And done with more love.
After they are done, late that night, they return the pot to their brother's house, leaving it on his doorstep, not even bothering to knock or to ring the bell, and begin their journey far, far away. They do not know any army of angry wolf relatives is off plotting revenge against them and their brother, knowing only where the third little pig lives. They aren't trying to run and hide from the wolf mob. They are trying to get away from their brother and his superiority complex. They don't wish him harm, in fact they wish him well, as they vanish into the night. Will their brother be eaten in a few days by a dozen angry wolves coming to seek their own revenge? They do not know. The possibility does not even occur to them. They just want to get out, to be free once again, and to forget the horrible, blood-curdling screams of the "big bad" wolf, who was just trying to survive.
Ask the first pig why he built his house of straw, and he will tell you that's what he could afford. He had substantial funds once, just like his brothers, but his closest friend was sick and needed help and he gave away all he could, leaving him with very little in terms of seed money, just enough seed money to grow the straw needed to build his home which the big bad wolf then destroyed. Ask the first pig how his anger flared at the wolf and he will tell you he is not angry, just sad. The wolf was hungry and the first little pig was nothing more than food to him. He wishes the wolf had just found someone else to eat. Then maybe that wolf wouldn't have ended up as a stew himself.
Ask the second pig why he built his house of sticks and he will tell you that was in keeping with his desired level of income. The second pig had actually made a great fortune, greater than either of his brothers, but he found it was destroying him. He ignored both his friends and family and had more possessions than he knew what to do with. Realizing the downward spiral he had thrown his life into, he gave away as much as he felt was reasonable, to the poor and needy and such, leaving himself with enough to build a modest home of sticks. He thought it would be sufficiently safe and secure, until the wolf came a-knockin'. For the first time in a long time, the second pig wished he had left a little more than himself, but as he and the first little pig fled together to the third and final brother's house, he looked around at the other homes surrounding him, the homes had helped his poor and downtrodden neighbors build, and he knew in his heart he had done the right thing.
Ask the third pig why he built his house of brick and he will tell you it was the best house his money could afford. His brothers were fools for giving their money away to others, he will say. Still, he loves them, and would never turn them down as they fled to him begging to be let into his wonderful home. They were exhausted and out of breath, so he let them relax in the guest sitting room and had his butler bring them some tea. And then the wolf came a-knockin'. Foolish wolf. Silly wolf. Even if he managed to get in the front door, the alarms would sound and security would be here in a matter of seconds to drag him away. But that didn't seem good enough to the third little pig. Not sporting enough. So he turned off his alarm system and let the wolf think he had a chance.
The first two pigs seemed afraid and even a little sad. "Maybe we can just give him some bread and fruit," the first little pig suggested. "He's just hungry. I know he thinks he wants to eat us, but maybe we can show him there's a better way."
"Yes," the second little pig agreed. "I have to admit, I'm not so sure it will work, but it's at least worth a try. He's just hungry. And maybe he doesn't even have a home of his own. I've never seen him before. He must have come a long way just to find something to eat. It certainly shouldn't be us, but isn't there something we can give him?"
"No," the third little pig disagreed. "I have earned all I have, just as the two of you did before you gave it all away, and I'm keeping it for myself, for us. I'm not giving it away to some angry, cruel wolf who wants to eat my brothers and me. This wolf will get what he deserves, which is nothing and worse."
The first little pig's eyes grew wide. "What are you thinking of doing, brother?"
The third little pig lets a sly grin creep across his face. "Tonight, boys," he says, "the wolf shall not feast on us, we shall feast on him."
And so, reluctantly, the first two pigs go along with the plan of their older brother. They sadly help him taunt and tease the wolf until the wolf decides to climb down the chimney where the third little pig has a bot of boiling water and his finest chef waiting. The third little pig's mouth begins to water as he watches his chef work. Meanwhile, the first two little pigs huddle in a corner in the second guest bedroom with their hooves over their ears, trying to drown out the wolf's screams of agony.
When the third little pig calls his two brothers for dinner, they are reluctant to come. They cannot think about how delicious wolf must be, as their brother is thinking, they can only think about the screams and the pain the wolf must have felt being boiled alive. So as their third brother digs in, they push their food aside. And sit in silence. The third little pig looks up at them. "What's wrong, brothers?" he asks. "We had a great victory today. Eat, eat! If you are lamenting the lose of your homes, don't worry, you are welcome to stay with me as long as you wish! I may even consider giving you loans to build new homes." He sneers. "As long as you choose not to just give it away."
At that the two little pigs glance at each other. The second nods to the first. "Good-bye, brother," the first says. They stand, each pouring his wolf stew back into the pot. The second takes the entire pot off from the table as they turn and walk away. The first helps him as it is very large.
"Where are you going?" the third little pig cries out. "Why are you taking my wolf?"
The first little pig turns back to him, a deep sadness in his voice, "This isn't your wolf," he said. "He came to me first and I wish I had done the right thing."
"What?" the third pig shouts, "Let him eat you?"
The second pig sighs and shakes his head. "Not let him be eaten," he replies. "But what's done is done, and there seems only one right thing to do now."
And the two little pigs lug the giant pot out of the brick house, to the second pig's neighborhood where they distribute it to the poorest, most hungry families without telling them a thing about what's in it. They considered dumping it out, but decided it would go to better use feeding those who were truly in need. Perhaps two wrongs don't make a right, but at least the second wrong was more right than the first, they decided. And done with more love.
After they are done, late that night, they return the pot to their brother's house, leaving it on his doorstep, not even bothering to knock or to ring the bell, and begin their journey far, far away. They do not know any army of angry wolf relatives is off plotting revenge against them and their brother, knowing only where the third little pig lives. They aren't trying to run and hide from the wolf mob. They are trying to get away from their brother and his superiority complex. They don't wish him harm, in fact they wish him well, as they vanish into the night. Will their brother be eaten in a few days by a dozen angry wolves coming to seek their own revenge? They do not know. The possibility does not even occur to them. They just want to get out, to be free once again, and to forget the horrible, blood-curdling screams of the "big bad" wolf, who was just trying to survive.
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