Monday morning. Humanity awakens and dons the costume of its assigned purpose. Some become conveyorbelts, others levers or pulleys. A few have chosen to adorn themselves purpose of books, typewriters and paper weights. The guy Im looking at right now through the office window seems to have been assigned the purpose of mother nature, that is to make things look like grew there. Im pretty sure well always have to have people landscape for us. Mother Nature just doesnt share our aesthetics and were not a very compromising species. But this guy has beenn trying to put grass on a tiny piece of land for more than a weeks now. Because this guy is not there to make the land more scapey (thats what landscaping is.. right). This mans purpose is something entirely different from what it looks to be at first glance. This man is there to work. The final outcome of this process is not important. As us hippie-ish pepople tend to say, what matters to him is his journey rather than his destination. To further reflect that fact: This man is paid by the hours of work he puts in not the total amount of necessary projects to be finished. If this man was given the choice of project completion based salary he would not be happy, that would go completely counter to his purpose here. A purpose which can be summarized up as: being here so I can be elsewhere at other times. And he has to be there, because the guy who wants to be there is currently preoccupied pretending to be a book at a law firm so he can support his children to be trained to be books. Because its somehow better to be a book than a lever, or a pulley. It just makes sense that books are worth more than such crude implements. At least it makes much more sense than saying one human is worth more than another.
Posted on: Mon, 01 Sep 2014 08:26:55 +0000