What if we're not as "High" a life form as we think? I was just musing about the poor half chicken breast I wasted last week by leaving it in my fridge too long. I wasted that chicken's life, thought I. It made me start to wonder the meaning of my life, of our lives as humans. What if our whole existence were based on whether someone got sustenance and even pleasure from the consumption of our flesh? What if we're not as advanced as we think we are? I'm sure a chicken thinks it's pretty important and that its life is complicated, what with all the pecking and bickering between chickens, living a life without hands with your face constantly all over the ground. Anyhow, what if we are like chickens to some other life form? What if we are just a little part of the farm that the universe is growing? Maybe we're just an experiment of a higher life form gone awry since we seem to be destroying our host. Maybe the mother earth concept is more developed than we think. What if the earth and other celestial bodies were sentient? Would that freak you out?
Maybe I really am a vegetarian... But then again, I'm also a gay man. I just happen to be trapped in the body of a meat-eating woman.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Wasteful Thoughts
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2 comments:
you{re crazy. sorry about the apostraphe. i can{t figure out where it is so i just keep hitting the button that it SHOULD be. :)i like your chicken description. chicky chicky chicky.
Reminds me of the Short Story "The Man Who Saw Through Heaven" which includes the following:
3. THE RING.
“And beyond these?”
Always, after each new feat of distance, it was the same. “And beyond?” given an ell, Diana surrendered to a pop-eyed lust for nothing less than light-years. “And still beyond?”
“Who knows?”
“The mind quits. For if there's no end to these nebulae—”
“But supposing there is?”
“An end? But, Mr. Krum, in the very idea of an ending—”
“An end to what we might call this particular category of magnitudes. Eh?”
“I don't get that.”
“Well, take this—take the opal in your ring there. The numbers and distances inside that stone may conceivably be to themselves as staggering as ours to us in our own system. Come! that's not so far-fetched. What are we learning about the structure of the atom?—a nucleus (call it a sun) revolved about in eternal orbits by electrons (call them planets, worlds). Infinitesimal; but after all what are bigness and littleness but matters of comparison? To eyes on one of those electrons (don't be too sure there aren't any) its tutelary sun may flame its way across a heaven a comparative ninety million miles away. Impossible for them to conceive of a boundary to their billions of atomic systems, molecular universes. In that category of magnitudes its diameter is infinity; once it has made the leap into our category and become an opal it is merely a quarter of an inch. That's right, Mr. Diana, you may well stare at it: between now and now ten thousand histories may have come and gone down there . . And just so the diameter of our own cluster of universes, going over into another category, may be . .”
“Maybe a . . a ring . . . a little stone . . . in a . . .a ring.”
Krum was tickled by the way the man's imagination jumped and engulfed it.
“Why not? That's as good a guess as the next. A ring, let's say, worn carelessly on the—well, say the tentacle—of some vast organism—some inchoate creature hobnobbing with its cloudy kind in another system of universes—which in turn—”
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