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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1574901
Rated: E · Non-fiction · Community · #1574901
This was written the day approximately 71,400 people lost their jobs.
Earlier today I read that 50,000 people lost their jobs to start off the week. Two hours later, round four, I read that 18,000 more were cut. 

Two people I know at the moment know a particular place is hiring. Me and him. That means that there could possibly be two more people that know of the job opening. Each two represents another possible two that can catch wind of the crumb’s light scent—because hungry stomachs will impel the nose towards even the smallest of rewards. So everybody that’s now hungry and left with no choice rushes over to this restaurant which we all are ashamed to apply at because its is such a side step from our true aspirations.

When we get to the restaurant the doors have been closed. The managers have already picked two able minded fellows for the position of chump. We put our heads to the ground and wonder what we can do as individuals to change our reality.

Imagine what we could do if we got together. All those people banging at the doors of department stores. Instead of building makeshift huts with the labor and ability of one man or woman we can come together and build from the ground up vast structures that rival the pyramids of Giza. Start new companies; create new opportunities for work based on the work we give ourselves. To start anew, refreshing to some—scared to shit are others. We should be exhilarated. We almost have a clean slate. Don’t worry about that deficit; it’ll still be there long past when we die.

What I’m seeing now is the shit hitting the fan, and people are retreating into the dark forests of hunting and gathering again. In their own fortified protection they are able to eat what they happen across and are able to catch.

To be a Busboy. Not to be a busboy.

To even think to myself, about where our minds can take us if we make the effort together, I mean, Jesus. Not convinced? Look at what we’ve already done as a species. The assembly line, the ability to perform heart transplants, the challenge of a rubix cube. Surely we can rise above washing dishes so that our own dishes can be filled. Surely we can do great things.

Can anything that ever came into being by the hands and minds of mankind be accredited to one name? Or does the creation come from the cry of the populous marking the need for the species to adapt and change?

Maybe our minds do evolve over time like they say, so I hope we won’t lose the will to think beyond our means. Maybe the minds of following generations will evolve because of this generations’ contribution to the arts and sciences, to the abilities of human consciousness. New ways of seeing the same old world.

I hope we can all find a way to better our existence by realizing that we are experiencing it—seems simple, but try it sometimes. No money can buy wasted time—time that could have been exchanged for a richness that is only found within time itself. Nothing should get to us as long as we live. Nothing shall rack thy heart, or wreck thy spirit—if one casts aside notions that money is the most important invention that man has ever produced. 

Of course money and the power that is found in its fabrics has been the most pervading demon of the mind that comes off as an angel throughout humankind’s history. Money can promise to show you to heaven, with intentions to lead you through hell.

All of that is an illusion though. One’s perception of their surroundings and the rules that govern that environment are all man made notions. Shall outside forces take us to hell when they are absent of true value? My, I believe that could be considered an addiction. We need to stop looking to the ground for scattered change and realize there is something before us that is worth more than any commodity that we create from it. But what now can we take from the world and call our own?

What will come from the almighty “it” that will inspire us to the limits of human ability?

What could we do that will be worthy of being written into the histories, to be forever read by the developing minds of a new, younger, and more able generation?

What foundation can we construct for our children that will enable them to create something unfathomable, piercing the heavens?

Can anything be given to the earth? It must in some way come from the earth, so it must be given to us.

But they say nothing is given to us. Nothing is for free. I beg to differ. If we are reading these words then we have everything already. We are alive, no? So why stress?

At the end of the day I again check the news. The number of the day is 71,400.

Time to get to work. Put on your tool belt and hard hat or lab coat. Pick up your pen, chisel or gun.

This walk won’t be of leisure.


© Copyright 2009 Kevin Nelson (kdoc911 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1574901