The human condition also contains a certain and absolute uniqueness among each earth dwelling upright. A human’s genetic makeup may come across as similar to another. And we all surely look the same to the foreigner- 2 legs, a couple of eyes and a head. But what happens in the head, behind the eyes, in the heart is as inimitable in the individual as the number 1 is within 6.8 billion- and then some. The essence of a being that has the power of consciousness, love and experience of emotion can never be matched. Dreams are incidents that may share the same details as another person’s, but what that dream means to the individual is incomparable. And there are numerous aspects of the dream within the whole that are never contrasted.
I would hope that every single person I ask would agree. You are unique. There is none like you. You may have the same needs as I. I may have the same desires as you. But my emotions, my experiences are in no way comparable to yours.
And so…beyond this and without our collective acknowledgement of this privilege…
You have become a statistic. I have become a statistic. We watch documentaries and read articles about starvation and civil wars. We witness the murdering of 1000’s of people at a time. Wars produce millions of deaths. The denial of free food and health care to impoverished nations and communities brings even more deaths than war.
How does someone sit by, watching this happen without lifting a finger? How, for example, do governments see evidence of genocide in Darfur and let it slip by because it would cause trouble? What kind of trouble? Sure someone will die. But the inhabitants of Darfur certainly don’t see that as a problem. Hundreds of them die and are raped every day.
Seeing faces scroll across the $2300 Hi-Def television in my living room, those faces that can almost seem indifferent, life-less. What choice have they? After witnessing their own family shot to death, where would they find the strength or reason to express care? There are no words to describe what they are forced to deal with. They are a simple statistic. They would prefer to be my statistic or your statistic, but they have no choice.
Human life to the collective is no longer Human Life. The collective consists of individuals who care for themselves only. The collective sees a lifeless, blank face on TV’s and billboards and considers it nothing more than pixel and space. I walk down the street of DC or NYC and see these pictures and I have no sense that behind those faces are dreams that are 1:6.8 billion unique. What I care about is getting to my next destination, getting my cup of coffee and sitting with a friend hovering over an otherwise meaningless conversation. And, thank goodness, someone else will care for that vacant face. Someone else will send food and care. Someone else will give the homeless man I just crossed paths with a dime or a few.
And then a week later, after all the coffee has been drunk and the conversation forgotten. After another 6 or 7 days of death and starvation, I’ll hold myself hostage behind the blinking cursor of my Personal Computer. I’ll sip some chamomile tea and delve into a melee of words and anger against the world for being so cruel. “How can you let this happen, World? Who the f*ck do you think you are? Who gave you the right to take and eat while Vagabond rustles through your garbage? Who told you it was all right to let a whole nation of people sift away to nothing while you sit at your coffee shop table with your friend, arrogantly sipping away at your $4 coffee- that you paid with credit- with money you don’t even own? And how dare you spew vain words when someone asks you your opinion on poverty, puffing your chest like it can’t contain the oversized (albeit black) heart?”
Human life, then, is only human life to the individual (?). Is it that since I am only present in my conscience and that only I can speak for myself, that I am only human to me, to my acknowledgement? Is it that every other “person” I see isn’t really a person at all? Are they pieces of my conscience, a collection of random-looking objects that merely help me get through the day? And am I to only tap into my created placards when I feel the necessity, when I am feeling blue and need some contact?
Who am I?
I am self-centered, and I need a cup of coffee. Care to join me?
