Life can make a person feel dreadfully small.
The very act of realizing that your body is a number of well-refined subsystems acting in accordance with one another is just one of them, and one I find myself drawn to every so often.
So I may be, in essence, a machine but how finely-tuned? How well-oiled?
I function, with some minor hiccups here and there. But I’m only human, and humankind is not evolution’s crowning achievement.
Evolution is not necessarily “survival of the fittest.” Evolution is throwing things at the wall to see what sticks. It is a game of inches; it’s about finding the rules of survival and bending them into a pretzel. It’s about how heavily you can game the system.
Humans have some kinks to work out, for sure. Our minds are powerful and flexible, but there are vestiges of bygone eras long since past encoded in the way we organize ourselves (I.E. tribalism), and process the world.
No human alive NEEDS their tonsils or their tailbones. But they also don’t impede the way we go about or business enough to be dealt with by the drip, drip, drip of natural selection.
But we have what we’ve got, regardless of our ability to use it.
This is what inspired me to write Vestigial Structures. Those bits of me left over from when I definitely wasn’t human.