Hominiddity Quiddity

Okay, I’m a hominid – but what is that?

I’m not the stripped down essence of the human being.

I don’t carry within me some “most human element – seed of humanity” which waits for the fullness of time to unfold, to develop.

I’m not a human being, even.

I’m not the childhood, innocent or otherwise, of humanity, either.

I’m not a tabula rasa upon which some epic new cosmic novel will be scribbled.

I’ll get down to brass tacks with you – I know it is not pleasant to be in my presence:

The hominid is a radical fall and break from the animal. A fall from animal grace, if you will.

(We're still animal, though. I admit. We're incredibly shitty, inferior ones.)

I do not carry within me the heritage of any of the other primates.

I did not get their inheritance of grace, dexterity, deftness, skillfulness of movement – joy of movement – their swing.

I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.

It seems so natural to assume that at least the hominid had what the chimps or apes have.

But, no.

I’m a clod. A bungler. A klutz.

We hominids – we’re stooges of the Serengeti.

If you could see us in action, banging into each other, accidentally tripping on flat ground and pushing each other into the dirt, hurting and injuring each other through our remarkable inability to coordinate our motions, you would never ever bet on us for survival capability, let alone future predominance.

You’d see us as flukes, one of nature’s bungles, destined for a rapid extinction.

There’s no redeeming or telling gleam of intelligence in our eyes, either. Nope. Sorry.

We’re dull, man, we’re damned contemptibly dull.

How did we survive, then?

Ah, we were dice falling through the air, never hitting the table though…We’re an event of probability…Think of us that way.
We’re an event of probability more than we are stink, meat, struggle, breath, or fear.

We’re never ever far away from risk, from sudden disappearance.

No matter how we might stink, struggle, fear, or think.