We are the arrogant animals, the out-of-step ones—the ego-driven, tantrum-throwing destructive ones. We are the prideful animals and the delusional animals all at once.
While a deer is busy being its noninvasive self, we are busy invading other humans or defending ourselves from human invaders. At this moment, as I write, somewhere a lion is killing another animal in order to feed itself and its family while we compose beautiful music and kill other humans in order to … I’m sorry, why do we kill other humans?
Of course the Book says that the first son of man murdered the second son of man. So what did we expect?
Some among us believe we are the guardians of this planet. They tell us they know what is best for us all—that they know what fish should live where, and what grass should grow where, and which humans should live where, and I suspect that soon when they "evolve" a little more, they will denounce God for allowing volcanoes to erupt and they will attempt to prevent Him from doing any more of His great and diverse mischief.
We have had hundreds of thousands of years to improve—to modify our violent natures—and we have failed miserably to do so. Yet because we are the delusional animals, we don’t really think about things like that too often.
Instead, we imagine ourselves to be a species apart—a non-animal species of an infinitely superior nature. As proof we direct each other to consider the wonders of our truly magnificent deeds and accomplishments. We enshrine our DaVincis and Einsteins in order to reassure ourselves that we are the intelligent species, the evolved species, far removed from the animals.
Of course, as needs be, we fail to earnestly consider the all-too-human contradictions inherent in our DaVincis and Einsteins. While we loudly and repeatedly laud the remarkable accomplishments of these icons of human superiority, we quietly and easily demote their other contributions—DaVinci’s advanced weaponry designs and the first most urgent consequence of Einstein’s e = mc2 — apocalyptic death and destruction, which proved beyond any doubt that we are far more efficient killers than all other creatures on this planet.
Yet, in our fleeting moments of unadorned self-appraisal we wise and superior guardians of the planet are obliged to accept the unspoiled truth that we can't even make a leaf.