My hope for humanity

We are early intelligent lifeforms on a rock we call Earth, in a possibly infinite universe. I often feel gutted by how small we actually are. Some say that there is nothing we cannot do, `like duh`, we have been on the Moon. In real terms, given the scale of how big our Galaxy is, one should only be entitled to say there is so much more that we need to do because we have barely been on the Moon. Our Solar System is one of the many billions in our Galaxy and we have not been outside of it.

I have spent much time pondering the infinity but it left me disconnected from the world, a society where status is determined by money and popularity is owned by cat videos. One of my conclusions in my years of wonder has been that consciousness is the most important thing that we know of in the universe. The highest level, the ability of an intelligent system to be self-aware and most established thinkers and philosophers agree. In within the context in within which we as a society disregard that which holds the most real value, since society is not organized by level of consciousness but is rather in a primordial state where status depends on salary, it was money that I had to obtain before improving the world. It was money that heroes of mine such as Elon Musk that they had to obtain before changing the world in accordance to their much-needed vision. How was I to start my journey as I was exiting the state of ponder, the state of developing my consciousness and progress towards positively influencing the world. First, I needed to obtain an amount of money that would allow me a certain comfort before moving forward. Should I attempt to contact Elon Musk? The poor man is overwhelmed fighting short sellers, emerging, being bombarded by groupies. I had other heroes, most notably Bob Dylan – the man that shaped Steve Jobs more than anyone else ever did. I wrote to Bob Dylan to ask for this initial infusion of capital that I would need to start my journey but I did not manage to get through to him. A side of me did not think I would because he is also surrounded by the bureaucracy that he cannot quite fight, the same bureaucracy that inevitably orbits every big name. A different side of me, the dominant side of me knew that Bob Dylan, the voice of a generation, but really America`s soul in the 60`s, he who spearheaded the folk revolution, the poet that carried the light of consciousness was seeking for someone to pass on his mental to...to be his Bob Dylan to him being Woody Guthrie. I wrote to him to tell him that it is me, but times have changed, I did not manage to sneak in to see him as he would have done in his youth and yes to the bad and to the good, times have changed. Security measures filter out both the threats and the soul of things. Also, my mind started expanding when I became older, partly because I am Eastern European and we have suffered generational suppression under the Iron Curtain so it took generations to blossom out of it again. I had much to say and I wrote them all down to him, but I could not get through. I had to accept my madness but one day the doorbell rang. It was a package with no return address which upon opening possessed the sum on two million dollars in hard cash.

It was the following days that I quit my clerk position at The Publix Supermarkets, a greatly desired move especially since the company began being associated with white supremacy, I have started to perfect my guitar playing skills, began having the confidence to allow my mind to truly hear the simple, yet archaic tunes in my head and to add the deep poetry that I have been writing for over a decade. The world is globalizing, identities merge and religious rituals are being celebrated out of some form of social inertia. People are starting to stop believing in the old traditions so therefore they need new things to believe in. We can believe in Elon Musk but we need more. As the years went by, I have begun developing a following of a deeper level than the average artist. I had become the new Bob Dylan. I have roamed on my feet across America and at concerts I would give a little black book to every person in the audition. The black book contained the secret message of the conclusion of my many years in meditative exile. The little black book was designed to never be opened but rather be like a monolith that everyone needed to carry as a reminder to never cease to grasp, never cease to expend their awareness, to be there to discomfort them enough to progress and become the group of apes that want to make the world better, the group of apes that would develop the mental tools to overwhelm the other apes such as the short sellers of Wall Street, the white supremacists or any other impediments to us from gradually expanding into this large universe.