Happy birthday to me, kids!
My birthdays make me very thoughtful. (Some say my birthdays make me moody and bitchy, but that's all in the eye of the beholder.)
I get thoughtful because I start thinking about my own ending, which is barreling down the track straight at me. And sometimes I think about the ending of the human race, and the world as a whole.
Isn't that lovely?
I was just reading a review of a new Brian Eno recording. It was described as “hopeful,” and ends with the words “Everything will be all right.”
You know, strangely enough, in the cosmic sense, I think that may well be absolutely true.
Just maybe not with human beings in the picture.
We are absolutely not necessary in the Universe. The Universe got by just fine before we human beings evolved into our current hip/square dichotomy.
I have read lots of science-fiction books in which human beings grow giant heads and colonize every planet in the galaxy; also I have read lots of religious texts in which we sprout wings and fly into a celestial DisneyWorld.
I think either of those conclusions would be groovy. But I'm not betting on either.
Human beings are just another weed in the weed patch. We bloom from time to time, and brighten the summer day once in a while.
But, as the late George Harrison said, a long long time ago, when we were all very young:
. . . You're really only very small
And life goes on within you, and without you . . .
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