human being
People sometimes forget that they are human beings.
In amongst all the non-fiction books of the moment that are discussing the physical makeup of the brain and all it can do and perhaps why it does it, often referred to in a business context of why we all fail to conquer the world today, there feels like a greater point missing.
We are all human beings.
We like things and sometimes we don’t. We are dashingly unpredictable.
We fall in love with new people and stay in love with people who have been around us forever. We take care of them and they take care of us.
We can and do cry, go crazy and ramp up emotionally without the insincerity that business calls for. We can genuinely want to kiss someone with the spark of fluffy kittens or hurt that same person with the fire of watching them punch those kittens.
We do things to be near people who are like ourselves. We mourn loss and conversely can live for weeks on the adrenaline of excitement for something we want to do or people we want to see.
Politics, whether in government or an office, injects a paralyzing dose of inhumanity into our brain.
The professor-like part of our brain loves politics. The other part, the wild horse, hasn’t a clue what is going on and nor should it.
Through heavy applied processes, unimaginative business mechanisms and even religious fears; for far too many the wild horses have been deemed injured and are summarily shot. The glue factories are doing a roaring trade these days while the professors’ dully and duly procrastinate ahead with no notion of love, regret, compassion or feeling.
It’s okay to be in love (with people or things you do). It’s also perfectly fine to swear out loud, cry, drive a day to see a waterfall, surprise someone who means a lot to you, smile at a passing stranger (especially a cute one) and step into craziness every now and again.
The human part of being a human.
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