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boring everyday epigenetic stuff

December 9, 2016

We’re at a lot of low points in history right now. Like as a country, as a species, as planet dwellers. It’s easy to lose hope in existence and begin planning a life where you just smoke a lot of weed and enjoy a more satisfying flash in the pan on some mmo that lets you have cats and change your hair color.

The thing about the mmo is that it lets you have a pretty great time right now. The cats, the purple hair that transitions effortlessly into white, maybe some really sweet bow staff skills…

The thing about real life on earth is that even those of us that are totally having a pretty great time right now are withering inside every day because we know that many people very much are not, and also that shit tons of important and beautiful things are dying off all over our globe.

And it really does suck, because the spirit’s desire is to fly off the handle and go over the waterfall and show up at the front line with eyes and internal fire ablaze; and because the heart’s burden is to trudge softly through one’s everyday life tending all that is under one’s care. This constant struggle between meeting at the melee out spearhead and trying to hold together the slit belly of one’s own community causes the head to go: pop.

And then the contemplation of the mmo lifestyle.

However.

We all know way too much about evolution now to drop off the face and into the ether for too long. We all know that the way things are is because of the way things have adapted to the way things were. It’s time to consider what drove that adaptation. What caused the cat to meow; what caused the thumb to oppose.

Will.

Will has driven every transformation ever except the ones that happened by sheer dumb luck. Will to live, will to create, will to get that fucken human to give you food.

Will is what’s going to drive my movement. What’s going to power my change is the slow roll of metamorphosis that happens when personal evolution and force of conviction refuse to be satisfied with the status quo. I can set my mind and set my teeth and reach out for others to help or be helped, and I can make my will known. At the very least in a Horton Hears a Who sort of way.

And I can kind of just stop expecting that evolution could hurry its damn self up for me so I can have the kind of life I want when I think about how the world should be. The fact that I can envision it is what counts. I may never sit under those trees but what puts them there is my make so. Evolution is not so interested in what I would like right now. Evolution has its own timetable. Evolution is for the future. Evolution is too busy figuring out why humans don’t get a third set of teeth at around forty. Hopefully.

This means my movement is up to me. I’ve got to put the real work into my own life to make sure I’m having the kind of existence that encourages growth in the directions I want. I have to show up whenever I can and be counted for my causes. I’ve got to make sure that nobody gets their human, animal, or plant rights stomped on when I can do anything about it. Like everyone else before me I have to grow my own change.

And I’ve got to put up with everyone who doesn’t see things the same way I do, because this change shit is slow. A belief system is the root of a person. Roots go deep and move at a crawl. You can’t alter their path quickly without killing the tree.

The good thing is that the hopelessness belongs to the now. Hope is always the food of the future. If I can keep my view wide enough I can see that even the worst of what’s going on right now will be just a part of the story of the victory of love that we are all creating together and always have been creating. Even if we all go out in a great ball of fire that is going to be one different ball of fire than when it first spun into existence. The going may be slow and the chunks axed and branches lost may be at times unbearably many, but the love tree is still getting her toes dug in and spreading them out underneath all this unrest.

-the roots are down there riotous

rumi

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