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We Can Not Eat Money

Updated on October 6, 2016

It was the fifth night in a row I had been woken up at midnight. It seemed to have become the norm. Each night the annoyance grew stronger, along with frustration. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight the fall breeze blew just enough to make the curtains wrinkle at its invisible touch. Mesmerized by the movement I sat up, only to be indulged by the longing to dance among their thin complexion. I cave and find myself walking to the window. As the breeze progressively grew, my bare skin shuddered and each lone hair began to rise. I softly place my hand on the window sill, peering out into the moonlit yard. In this moment, my stresses began to evaporate. Nothing mattered but the moment itself. Tomorrow became least in relevance for tomorrow was not the moment; yesterday to be thanked by my appreciative mind, for without yesterday the moment would not exist. I wonder as I am standing there, about all the things I don’t normally question. My eyes open at the realization. The life I thought was so wonderful wasn’t so wonderful after all. How I am supposed to believe I am truly free when natural rights don’t seem to exist anymore. In fact the entire natural world itself seems to be going extinct from our access. What will we eat once all animals are gone or toxic? What will we drink when the last river has been poisoned by an oil spill or chemical leakage? What will we breathe when the air has been engulfed by industrial smoke? Nothing makes sense. I become lost to my thoughts and to myself. Without thought I slide the window open and crawl out, hopefully if I become lost in the forest I will become found to myself.

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