Recently I left a large parking lot, heading home without the little pack containing my life story — cards, cash, ID, datebook, phone. It could have been torn apart by wolves, causing serious harm. Instead, it was found by a purely honest man, who contrived to return it almost before I knew it was gone.
You were very, very lucky, say the cynics. That’s true — but this story does not stop with me. It connects with a far greater truth, namely that we humans must stop killing each other, along with many more species while we’re at it. We must learn to be kind, like the man who rescued my pack.
The caldron of war into which we are sinking is a stupid, pointless thing. It solves nothing. It kills millions, leaving more millions bereaved, homeless, starving. It ignites monstrous hatred of the perpetrators, who brag that they will stop killing only when they’ve killed the last one.
This is madness. It must stop, if civilization is worth saving. We look away, we distract ourselves with on-screen silliness, but no, we must stop killing. We must be kind. There is no one else. This is not a dream. We must do it now.
