The Actuality of the Animals in the Zoo

The Actuality of the Animals in the Zoo
And the present of the present

We all go through life at various speeds and volumes. Everyone has something that 'works' for them; some kind of mentality that gets them through the day. For some, it's a blind optimism to the world, for others it's the cast iron bars, a cage of misfortune and a series of bad events that dictate their entire lot in life. Others still are bound by an endless series of constant self measurement, consistently raising the bar of their own expectations until the possibility of failure is absolute. I've seen, and executed, a lot of these mentalities at various stages of my life, but lately I've noticed a very troubling trend in the pessimism of the present. A lot more people seem all the more content to build boxes around themselves, to lock out the world, and have nothing to do with the music at all. I've asked several of these people: "Why would you do this? To what end does it serve?" They've all come back with the same thing. "There's just no point if all I'm going to do is get bitten."

Everyone seems so ready to quit, to give up, to walk away from all the hustling and bustle of life, but for what? What does it really accomplish to have all the animals decide they want no more part in the Zoo? Sure, we're all born with the inherent, and important, knowledge that we can check out any time we desire but why would we? What is it that's become so bad in the world that it's no longer worth being a part of anymore? Is there anything, anything in life that could be bad enough to actually make a lifetime of self imposed darkness and silence seem better? 

I've long believed that people and life are capable of anything, for better or worse. Every day, it's true, unspeakable horrors come screaming down from the sky at us. They leave us howling in a blind panic, looking for whatever shelter and refuse we can build up to protect ourselves from them. It's natural instinct to want to be safe after all, but what happens when we take it too far? What do we do when we just sit, endlessly, in the shade of safety and security? How long can we really sustain? We're not designed to live in Faraday cages after all, and the longer we sit in them, the weaker we become. So, again, I ask the question of 'Why?' What is it we really gain from this safety of starvation, this masochistic indulgence of always seeing what we want and never giving ourselves enough room to reach out for it?

Fear and Loathing are difficult beasts to master, nobody can argue that, but they're not the only things that run rampant in the wild jungles of life -- it's important to remember that too. Sure, sometimes it storms. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it drops hail from the clouds, sometimes the wind stings and the skies burn. Sometimes the roof leaks, sometimes the power goes out. The only tragedy of this comes on the heels of inaction though, of remaining stationary just because you might get wet or struck by a lightening event. You could argue that it's easier to hate the sky for it's sharp strikes and deafening thunder, but what about the other side of the coin?

What about the moments when the clouds break and the sun comes rolling out? What about the days when the calm seas roll onto the shores of midnight? What about how relaxing the sound of rain can be, or the sharp kick that lightening can deliver when it strikes the heart? What about those moments when, standing ankle deep in the rain, we're reminded of what we are? We're all animals. We're all bound by the same, primitive, thinking. It's hardwired into our DNA that we should preserve ourselves from all the things that mean us harm...but how much of what we're afraid of is just some boogeyman in the night? Is that why we're covering ourselves in steal and turning our most precious of organs into stone?

We've built walls around our zoos, keeping those, precious, animals close to us and safe. We've stunted our own growth by willingly stepping in cages, happy to live on handouts and passerby moments that, if we're lucky, make us smile. We've neglected the gift of the present to be ready for the sun to go down, for the storm to roll in, for the moon to mock us from on high. I'm not saying preparation and precaution are bad -- I've already gone over that -- but what I'm seeing is simple physics being neglected. Yes, the moon will almost always cast foreboding shadows on the most harmless of things and the sun will always chase those monsters away. If the sun were constant and warm, how would we be able to appreciate the stars that us of all the wonderful things that are out there?

The present, remember, is a gift. It's an immediate moment with absolutely limitless possibilities. It could go anywhere and it often goes everywhere, at any given time. It doesn't give warnings, it doesn't hold to the courtesy of informing you of anything and it never will. It's a beautiful thing though. The present is, without a doubt, the greatest present you'll ever be given. There's a catch to it though. In order to really accept it, to have it, you have to turn yourself over to it entirely. You've got to let the strange wind blow you where it will, let the music spill into your feet and carry you forward, you've got to really let yourself go to the moment and understand that yes, it might drop you, but it also might help you fly.

You've got no way of knowing where it will carry you, so why worry about it? If the skies grow dark and the wind picks up? Weather that storm but embrace it for the moment it is too. Let the wind howl, let the rain cry, let the skies roar and the lightening crash, spread your arms out and stare into its eye. If you can't know, then why worry? Slip the bars of your cage and go screaming into the night, find your ship, whatever it is, climb on board, and ride the waves. It's this path that will lead you down the rabbit hole of limitless possibilities. It'll drop you under the Earth and shake off the stones you've swallowed to harden yourself. It's the only way to take the gift.

Gods give nothing without the request of sacrifice. Offer yourself to a moment an it'll take you anywhere -- and being anywhere is better than going nowhere.