What a crazy life this is, and yet awe-inspiring and amazing, if I think about it.
Amazing how, by the time we reach adulthood, most of us have forgotten how difficult doing things can be. We forget that it took years to get from a couple of half-cells to walking, talking human beings.
We forget what it was like to repeatedly fall flat because trying to hoist that much body mass onto two, short sticks is insane, because by the time our two sticks are even longer and carrying around even more body, we've gotten so used to it, it's no big deal anymore. In fact, we've likely figured out how to move those two sticks in such a way we manage to move ourselves around, not only slowly, but quickly, and backwards, too - and sometimes over great distances!
We forget how many months it took to go from cells that absorbed nutrients from a liquid environment, to actually searching for stuff we find in our much harsher environment, sometimes out of the dirt, or taken from stuff growing out of the dirt, or even other stuff that went from cells to creatures that use their various kinds of sticks to move around and seek food, too!
We forget that using our other, two sticks with complex, littler sticks on the ends took forever to figure out! Grasping, reaching, dressing, catching us when our holding-up sticks don't do their job properly. Getting that food from the outside of our body to the inside. Writing, using tools like scissors; turning pages of books; coordinating the upper sticks with the lower sticks in order to carry things.
We had to figure out how the sound maker pieces in our bodies work. We notice sound when we do certain things, but have no idea how that happens, at first. And from that we get to the point we actually, verbally communicate with other beings who do the same things, having learned how different sounds mean something to them, and if we learn enough of them, language and communication happen! And if we use them in other ways, even music can happen!
We learn rules. Lots and lots and lots of rules, and consequences, over many years. And we get good at remembering and obeying them. Or disobeying them. Eventually we can choose whether or not to follow which rules, and even create rules, if we get that far.
By the time we're adults, most of us barely remember those experiences, and yet they literally made us who and what we are, as adults.
We don't remember...
We don't remember...
...until we can't do it anymore.
And then, we have to grieve that loss,
and try to figure out what we're gonna do, now.
So, what are we gonna do, now, those of us who resonate with this? Maybe you still can do your normal life, and do so, but know somebody who can't? Or love somebody who can't? Or have been someone who can't, or might yet be?
Not just the weird mass of cells that keep us breathing and moving around, but *us*, the parts that will us to keep doing it; that think and feel and believe in it - or don't. The parts that make all this mess of parts worth it, for ourselves and for others. The parts that don't really change despite whatever happens to the other parts, usually unless we choose it to do so.
This isn't one of those posts where I have some kind of solid suggestion. I've no idea at the moment, for myself, except what I've told other people, including you readers at one point or another: just do our best, and keep hope for the rest. And try to stay connected with people who get it, too, like on the PB Community Facebook Page. Because that support is vital, to ourselves and our hope. And if we figure something out, share it, because we never know who might benefit from something like that, even if we're scared to do it.
Anyway, there you go.
(I actually wrote a post! Go me! *\o/*)
(I actually wrote a post! Go me! *\o/*)
Better days ahead, my friends!
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