Roadkill That Hasn’t Reached It’s Full Potential

Today I pondered a question that at first glance would seem very simple to answer, yet as with most questions of this type, the simplest answer is rarely the correct one. So here’s the question; what are we? I mean as humans, what makes us what we are? Why do we think we’re special?

We’re different from a toaster or a lawnmower by the fact that we are flesh, are conscious, have the ability to reproduce, can (to some extent. We do have bodily functions that are involuntary) control our own actions, and to put it simply, we are alive.

We differ from plants because we have a will, we can think, and we have organs (I know plants have parts that keep them alive, but I don’t know if I’d classify them as organs).

We don’t really have a whole lot of things that are different between us and animals. Sure, we have differently structured bodies which allow us to build things, drive cars, etc (the opposable thumb was a big help with that), but really there are only two big differences between us and them. One, we have the ability to communicate between ourselves (although some would argue that animals can in fact do that). Two, we don’t operate mainly off of instinct (or do we? Perhaps another question for another time). We have an intellect capable of thinking about things beyond just the present. We can think about different situations, different points of view and other things. We can also ponder our fate. Unlike animals, we are aware of the fact that one day we’ll be dead.

So what makes humans so special? If you think about it, we’re just a brain in a body. A lump of gray flesh that controls the rest of our guts. All our thoughts, our will, our likes and dislikes, our emotions, our hopes and our fears all exist only in that lump of gray. Everything else in our body is designed to keep the brain alive and give it mobility.

All the things that people attribute to the “heart” really has nothing to do with our heart at all. Our hopes, fears, loves, hates, beliefs, and anything else that makes up our personality is simply chemicals and electrical impulses interacting in a constant process that makes us who we are.

As much as people would like to think that humans are wonderful, special creatures, we really aren’t. We’re just bags of guts keeping a brain alive, because the brain is who we truly are.

Anyhow, as much as I could keep at this topic, my brain is saying “I don’t want to do this any more,” so my fingers are going to obey and stop trying.

But to answer the question of what we really are, my opinion is in the title.

*

“It’s the lie that we believe

A truth that we conceive

That lies inside of me

When I leave it all behind

Something hypnotized

The moment that it’s mine

*

Is anybody even there

Who doesn’t just pretend to care

This time I need to know-are you there?

Does anybody think they can

Begin to even understand

This time I need to know-are you there?”

*

Oleander