Day 84
My mind always finds its way to a place of conflict when I look into the eyes of an animal, whether it be a cat, dog, wild deer, or any creature that finds its way to the television via nature shows. I'm just never sure what it is that I see; sometimes I see a conscious being so uncannily alike to humanity, that I want to go over and talk to it like an old friend.
Other times, I see blankness; a creature with a look of instinct and nothing more. I am being assessed, rather than being comminucated to. It nevers acts; it only reacts. My movements will provoke responses pre-arranged by the creature's very genetic code and thousands of generations of evolution.
Either sense may be no more than a projection. Eyes have a certain universal effect to them; we relate to the stare on many levels no matter whose eyes we stare into. Do I see consciousness because I am conscious? Do I see indifference because I am indifferent?
We are often both, after all.
Evolution is stunningly powerful in its form, but equally dispassionate and disorganized in its details. Reason and nature do not mix sometimes; the fittest of all creatures may die before procreation on account of some fluke natural event. I don't want to call nature's game indifferent though, because it does reward, on the whole, those creatures who are very good at fitting into their niches, or, in the case of viruses, some insects, and humans, transcending niches and going for broke on the whole damn planet.
On one hand evolution is a game of averages and algorythms, and on the other a game of luck. Luck - genetic mutation - makes evolution possible, but the number crunching capabilities of the machine are without compare in their hostility toward the weak.
As I've said before, a bullet in the neck is usually the least painful way a deer could possibly die, when compared to the natural alternatives of infection, starvation, or the wolves.
But I don't think I could ever kill a deer for a reason as trivial as recreation. Morality falls away into conscience; Even when I see a creature of instinct, I see something worth letting be. In this sense, it must be true that conscience has itself transcended evolution. Even the brightest animals behind us toy with mortality and morality like playthings, while we are going up against the wall trying to understand and absorb them. We can only ever kill what we believe is inhuman. And this, if nothing more, has a reason.
And thus there is no going back to nature. For the very reasons that we cherish our creations, we simply do not belong with nature any more. Nature tears away at our conscience, while we project harmony upon it.
“We had some ranting about the meaning of nature, ... And Jewel is more defending Treadwell's position, that there is harmony in the universe and the only disturbing element is human beings. I don't see it that way. I believe the common character of the universe is not harmony, but chaos, hostility, and murder."
- Werner Herzog, from Grizzly Man
Perhaps each man has the equation backwards.
Other times, I see blankness; a creature with a look of instinct and nothing more. I am being assessed, rather than being comminucated to. It nevers acts; it only reacts. My movements will provoke responses pre-arranged by the creature's very genetic code and thousands of generations of evolution.
Either sense may be no more than a projection. Eyes have a certain universal effect to them; we relate to the stare on many levels no matter whose eyes we stare into. Do I see consciousness because I am conscious? Do I see indifference because I am indifferent?
We are often both, after all.
Evolution is stunningly powerful in its form, but equally dispassionate and disorganized in its details. Reason and nature do not mix sometimes; the fittest of all creatures may die before procreation on account of some fluke natural event. I don't want to call nature's game indifferent though, because it does reward, on the whole, those creatures who are very good at fitting into their niches, or, in the case of viruses, some insects, and humans, transcending niches and going for broke on the whole damn planet.
On one hand evolution is a game of averages and algorythms, and on the other a game of luck. Luck - genetic mutation - makes evolution possible, but the number crunching capabilities of the machine are without compare in their hostility toward the weak.
As I've said before, a bullet in the neck is usually the least painful way a deer could possibly die, when compared to the natural alternatives of infection, starvation, or the wolves.
But I don't think I could ever kill a deer for a reason as trivial as recreation. Morality falls away into conscience; Even when I see a creature of instinct, I see something worth letting be. In this sense, it must be true that conscience has itself transcended evolution. Even the brightest animals behind us toy with mortality and morality like playthings, while we are going up against the wall trying to understand and absorb them. We can only ever kill what we believe is inhuman. And this, if nothing more, has a reason.
And thus there is no going back to nature. For the very reasons that we cherish our creations, we simply do not belong with nature any more. Nature tears away at our conscience, while we project harmony upon it.
“We had some ranting about the meaning of nature, ... And Jewel is more defending Treadwell's position, that there is harmony in the universe and the only disturbing element is human beings. I don't see it that way. I believe the common character of the universe is not harmony, but chaos, hostility, and murder."
- Werner Herzog, from Grizzly Man
Perhaps each man has the equation backwards.
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