February 23, 2019

We are carriers of spirit. We know not how nor why nor where. On our shoulders, in our eyes, in anguished hands through unclear realm, into a future unknown, unknowable, and in continual creation, we bear its full weight. Depends it on us utterly, yet we know it not. We inch it forward with each beat of heart, give to it the work of hand, of mind. We falter, pass it on to our children, lay out our bones, fall away, are lost, forgotten. Spirit passes on, enlarged, enriched, more strange, complex. We are being used. Should we not know in whose service? To whom, to what, give we unwitting loyalty? What is this quest?

That’s a passage from Allen Wheelis’s short essay “Spirit.” It’s a remarkable piece of writing—almost scriptural in its account of evolution and consciousness. Read the whole thing here.