Bugs in Gaia’s Programming

If this whole shit is broke AF, how much you really think you can fix, y’all — for realz!

I’m working my seventh step, where I call on the Orisha to remove my defects of character. I have a shitload of them. When my student was letting me have it about shit I wasn’t quite ready to cop to, I had to laugh. They couldn’t see the mile-high shitpile of epic proportions of wrongs I’ve done. Blackmail worthy shit (book in-progress). It must be sweet to have the luxury of casting aspersions on others. Based on the number of progressive saints I witness going in on people, a lot of mother fuckbos are blemish free. It’s the only reason I can think of, that people are so quick to point fingers and judge.

See, as I look at it, Gaia is this extremely complex and intelligent machine. Think of how complex a machine the human body is — how complex a fucking ant is. So, we got this super being, Gaia, right? The Earth. We’re all just pieces. Everyone — everything — serves some function as part of her highly intricate design, that probably wasn’t even designed, it just grew from splitting atoms, into splitting cells and kept splitting and forming until they became this world, right? Regardless of what you believe, it was some version of that.

So, here we are part of this finely tuned machine that is the world. Regardless of how any of us thinks it should work or how we should be in the world, we got pushed out into it and it was likely in order to — as the sole purpose — contribute in the proper functioning of this world. Otherwise we wouldn’t exist. Fuck what you think about evolution, you are here because the world (in biological terms) needed your ass — for something. Just like everything that happens with your body serves your body, including its eventual expiration.

The way I see it, if my ass is here to serve a function as part of this mind-blowing apparatus called Earth (or, even more mind-blowing, the Universe) the least I can do is keep this piece (the piece of the great puzzle Earth that is me) operating as well as possible. That’s a full-time fucking job. I gotta keep this fit, keep this fed, keep this functioning, and keep my room tidy (whatever room I’m in). Just that is an overwhelming amount of shit to do.

So, yes, I commend the fuck out of all the people out there in cyber-space, who have so well mastered running this fucking obstacle course called life, that they can worry the about my part (and her part and his part and their part), and not have to keep their hands on their own handle bars. I salute you. I’m not worthy. You’re a fucking all-star.