I told a family member the other night that I often wonder why mankind evolved to walk upright. If we were not typically predators in the beginning, then we would probably have been prey; so it is odd that we took on such an awkward stance.
When I think of fast-moving mammals who were prey like deer, gazelle, or horses, it seems like it would have helped our distant ancestors to run on all fours rather than stand upright and off-balance. And yet, we all walk upright. Even if an upright stance would have helped us escape up a tree, any cat owner can tell you that it would not have likely saved us from a jaguar, for example. We acted as though we were at the top of the food chain before such a claim could even be argued - we pretended to be the alpha species with no predators above us, almost disregarding facts. Weird.
My father has been sick and in the hospital for a few months. He went in for a heart valve replacement, but experienced complications that left him close to dead. I go see him each day, but the recovery has been a long road. Despite what seem like overwhelming odds stacked against him, he has made so much progress and continues to improve. I am lucky that he survived, and I am indescribably grateful for that much.
For a long time, I felt that I had lost the will to live. I did not really understand how people had that will until these past few months of watching my dad. It had been so long since I had even entertained the idea of wanting to be alive that the notion seemed almost entirely foreign to me. But now that I have seen my pops fight back and struggle against nearly insurmountable challenges to overcome so much, I understand why I too would want to live.
If for nothing else, it is in defiance to circumstance, fate, and whatever else may place itself in our path. If our inevitable outcome is to be six feet under, then as long as we are alive, it is an affront to destiny, a grand scheme, or even the gods themselves that we push on.
Like monkeys standing up against what makes sense, we live.