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Man is the greatest killer on the planet; wiping out multitudes
of human and animal populations everyday. Sometimes we stand
there and watch others go blind and starve to death. We do not
survive as a species of killers because we kill so well. We
survive as a species of killers because we kill so well but most
times we don't do it. At these strange moments of instinctual
moratorium, the tribes rest, mate, and produce offspring, who
then grow up to kill.
A man knows why the fish go down when the water gets rough. It is enough. He does not need to be told again. Man does not need to see the fish to know they are present, or that they move together when danger sends a signal. The storm is always near. Man knows each natural rhythm overlaps another; the mercy of each tribe. When hell breaks loose, it always kills the weakest thing first. Freedom begins the day and the weakest of the poor are allowed to remain alive, in spite of all the combat. Human behavior is instinctually nomadic. Life is nomadic travel. We go away and come back until we are dead. We come back to a home that is simply a place for shelter, rest, and safety, arranged close to our support system, for the accruement of resources. We rest, travel again, rest, then travel again, etc. Some people call this commuting (which, in a way has replaced hunting). The antithesis is a cabin fever,going stir crazy. [PREVIOUS] [NEXT] |