A Matter of Choice

We are faced with a decision as a species that humanity has never had to seriously concern itself with,
Until now.
We know not why we inhabit this mound of rock,
But we know we are programmed to keep it inhabited.
Or are we?
I am told that within the next few years,
The natural biological tendency written deep within my genetic code will send stronger and stronger signals to my male counterparts that I am ready to be drilled, filled and fertilized.
A rather unsettling prospect for me.
When our ancestors emerged from the primordial soup of originality,
I imagine the single-celled organisms that came to be lacked the complex neurological chemistry to foresee the evolutionary tangent nature would later produce: us.
We, however, happen to house this magical, chemical machinery within the confines of our being,
And, unlike those funky inhabitants of the womb of the Earth itself, we have foresight and the ability to choose to bare fruit.
No immaculate conceptions here, ladies and gentlemen.
So, what of this choice?
The thinker inside of me says:
Take stock of the billions of us roaming the very ground from which we were birthed,
Chipping away at what was once abundant,
Only to move ourselves closer to a self-inflicted apocalypse.
Taps will no longer run freely,
Fossil fuels will no longer be beneath our feet but amongst the gaseous realm of our atmosphere,
Fertile land will be barren and arid from chemical exposure and mass production.
And what about our superior Western culture which capitalizes on the docility of children,
Shaping their minds to be little consumers,
Stealing that sparkle from their eyes ever earlier and earlier?
I would not wish to throw my children into the thralls of chaos,
Paying the heaviest price for mistakes made by generations past.
Knowingly and willingly placing a human being into a situation of such sufferableness seems sociopathic.
The agent within me, however, says:
That these breasts and hips were not given to me for show but are instead tools for creating, birthing, rearing, and shaping a generation of beings.
Through lots of hard, socially alienating work, the fruit of my labour can posses a global consciousness unfathomable to us straddling the fence of eco-socio-spiritual consciousness and materialistic, consumer-based systems;
A global consciousness that will soon recognize the necessity of action in favour of retaining a habitable habitat.
But such a perspective requires nourishing values and us fence-sitters are not quite so good at identifying let alone acting upon benevolent values.
When my child just out of diapers demands the latest Mac gizmo for fear of being ostracized from their peers,
I know the super heroine work will begin.
So, to abstain from or to bring forth life are both acts of love rooted in the desire to diminish suffering.
But the very nature of the question is not rooted in love,
Rather a frightening distrust of humanity.
Where, then, do I derive my hope?

Small Frames in the Bigger Picture

It always seemed more correct to me that life should be complicated.
Surrounded by many known unknowns and an infinite amount of unknown unknowns, it just seemed likely that complexity should be the foundation from which a life is built.
However serious I take my life and the experiences I have, I always considered that within such a perspective of life meaning is born.
But if life is what you make it and if I choose to complicate mine, what of those who choose simplicity?
They cannot be deemed incorrect, on the contrary.
With eyes connected to a brain that filters life through the big picture lens, over complication comes naturally.
Taming the wild intellectual beast seems to be my quest,
Turning a heavily laden life into a weightless one,
Devoid of abstract meaning or purpose.
Admitting that there are so many facets of this earthly life which we will never know, understand, ascertain is step one of the self-help programme.
I have always sought rules of engagement, or certainty, within the day-to-day,
Providing myself with a false sense of security.
From whence these rules are supposed to originate or whom enforces them is a question I cannot answer, And I reject anyone else's rules but mine thus.
But to play the game with authenticity one must embrace uncertainty.
The magic elixir of life.
Full of fear, excitement, enchantment and disappointment.
Simply put,
The best parts of the human experience.
Simplicity, or the process to, must involve a stripping away of unnecessities,
So here comes the hard work:
Discerning which parts stay and which parts are destined for the burning pile.
It seems simplicity, too, can be complicated.