Am I Lucky To Be Human?

Gamma rays of philosophy sometimes transpire on me, such that I begin to wonder, am I lucky to be human?

Practically thinking, I should put into my dogma that I belong to the luckiest life form on earth—able to think brilliantly, able to create or play as gods, able of reasoning, able to feel the most complex of biological emotions.

But that is practical thinking. Within the limelight of philosophy, practicality is never a priority. To ask questions such as ‘am I lucky to be human’ or ‘what if earth is hell already’ is as common as cleaning your nose in the real world.

Access world view (philosophical) mode.

Should I feel blessed as a human, one that strives very hard in life in order to earn a living for food, at which, when overcome by the obstacles, which are the temptations of laziness and the spread of severe illnesses, sinks in the quicksand of poverty, and dramatizes his own sick life and feel all the suffering and bad luck within him/her?

What if I were a wolf in the woods. Would there be a requirement of struggling everyday just to fuel my stomach? Yes. Do I have to meet obstacles in my struggle for life? Affirmative. Will I acquire sickness? Certainly. Am I then in the bad hands of poverty? Of course. I’m broke. Now, would I feel great sorrow, loathe everything around me, consider this world as hell, cry in my den, and completely lose hope? I bark to you my answer: I won’t.

Would I have the brains to know that my life is pathetic? Supposedly, have I dreamt of anything such as prosperity in the jungle in my wolven life? Would I even bid my farewells to my beloved pack in case I would die? Do I have to file a case against my fellow wolf who stole my rabbit carcass, thus, violation of wolven rights? Would I even care if I had rights, privilege or whatsoever? Would I be sentenced to 50 years of imprisonment after I slaughter an underage wallaby? No, I certainly would not.

How lucky of me.

What if I were a small shrub in the grassland? Should I feel pain when a whole bunch of zebras trample on my green, delicate leaves? Should I pray to come when the time comes that a goat is about to take my life in exchange of his survival? Should I rejoice at the top of my lungs when there is a drizzle or when the sun is mild? I shouldn’t, and if I should, I would not know how. I was programmed to grow, to convert sunlight into food, inhale oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide, wither, decay, be among the earth, and that’s pretty much it.

Talk about luck. I can expect my death anytime as among the plant kingdom, but why should I care? I’m very lucky to not know that my life is miserable. I may feel pain, hunger, and thirst, but I wouldn’t know and pretty much fuss about it.

What if I were a human? Should I run away in terror and feel my heart burst anytime when I am in the midst of a world war? Would I feel grief over the ones that I would leave behind in the event of extreme illness, and then, passing away? Would I feel molested and treated as an animal if I was tortured to death like dissecting me alive, drilling my eyes slowly, throwing stones at me to death, or burying me alive? Would I cry on one corner of the church and mention bad words against God because He created me in this world only to bear the cross of the world with matching crown of thorns? Should I force my eyes to cry a river when hunger entices me to death? Would I feel jealousy over the rich people in chlorinated swimming pools while I possess no shelter to protect my life from the dangerous world?

I should. I would. How unfortunate of me. Damn this life. Damn it.

Had I only been a squirt of amoeba, infesting people’s anuses and animals’ systems, I would not have a mind of my own to know which is worth crying or rejoicing for.

So tell me. Am I lucky to be human?

Back to reality (practical thinking) mode.

I am lucky to be human. I have all these gadgets used for cooking, easy transportation, cool media of communication, music on radio, computers to ease my job. I simply find happiness by looking at my achievements. I pity wild animals for they have to starve in the jungle and catch pneumonia in the freezing dens. I pity spiders for they don’t know how to party. I pity flamingoes because they don’t celebrate their birthdays. I pity tadpoles for they don’t know how to have a hot sex life. I pity baboons for they can never have a chance of knowing how to read love letters. I pity them.

Thank God. He made me one heck of a human.