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With the chocolate entering the mouth, and the two-leggedness of humans, we have essentially gone from head to toe in observing differences between what is universal and what is human experience. Though observations of this scale can only be considered a survey of  human perspective, it has provided an opportunity to see how the most subtle and banal aspects of life say the most about human beings collectively. And therefore, this can never be complete, since life is so full of  such basic events that only require observation. This blog will never be complete, but do not be so quick to dismiss it as a failure -- after all, I'm only human.

Two Feet

As humans progress in daily life, two legs carry them in any direction they pursue. One would question how something so simple and natural could possibly contribute to the human perspective, but it is exactly this that makes it so important. Two legs means that a person stands upright; this person stands taller than his ancestors, and is free to look toward the sky. Simply having the ability of looking upward shifts the direction of ones views toward the sky, suggesting ambition and confidence. Most others are beneath the human, while the human looks upward, as if setting a goal to ascend and acheive. It is hard to believe that a simple shift from four to two legs created such a different perspective. Nevertheless, humans stand proudly with two feet each, reaching their arms toward the endless sky.

OverClocked

Cartoon characters aside, this clock symbolizes yet another perspective that is only human: time. As everything moves through time, it is true that humans do not have control over what happens. However, only people have gone to the extent of measuring time, allowing for an evolution in efficiency.

Now, measured time has become so entwined in the lives of humans, however, that they no longer see it as a separate concept. Each day can now have a plan so detailed, it is set to every little swing of the clock's hands. Unlike the animals in nature, the lives of humans have time as an additional pressure. Though, for animals, risks often involve life and death, they can move at their own pace. Humans live by the clock, and from this, there arises the idea that something has to be done by a certain time. The laundry has to be done by this time on this day, so that one can finish homework by some time on the next day. Here, we can see how the concept of stress, in the modern definition (typically due to having too much work), becomes a problem for humans, while it is almost nonexistent for anything else.

Recycling "Trash"

"Throw it away" -- an idea that comes easily across most people's minds. Whatever is no longer needed can simply be tossed in the trash: the plastic wrapper for the chocolate that was just eaten, a pencil that has been used up, or even a relationship that has become burdensome. The concept is very human, as we keep taking without giving back. We base these perceptions on value. Some things we don't need, while others we do. It is much easier to gather anything unnecessary, bury it in the ground, and ignore its existence completely.

 True, the talk of recycling has improved in recent years. However, our attempts to recycle collapse. At times, the costs are too high, or the material is unsuitable, nonrecyclable. Humans make excuses and continue with their idea of "trash."

The catagories "trash" and "recycle," however, are foreign to nature. There are no useless substances or materials; everything exists and cycles through nature. What may be left over of a hunted gazelle could nourish a flock of vultures. Even the feces of animals return to the land to support nearby plants. The mass that goes in equals the mass that comes out, acting as a constant flow of conservation of mass. Yet, humans seems to ignore this concept, acting on their will and sectioning the continuity of nature with catagories of their own. at the slightest hint of difficulty

"Chocolate won't let you down"

Of course, most are familiar with the feeling of putting a delicious piece of chocolate in ones mouth. Even the mere idea of that sweet, smooth treat melting on one's tongue sends one a wave of warmth. Chocolate is a means by which humans express love for each other, as they send it packaged as gifts for Christmas or Valentine's Day. The Hershey's Kiss, meiji Meltykiss, and "love" from Dove each equate chocolate with a form of affection, as if one could pucker their lips, wrap it in some pretty packaging, and save it for a loved one.

Yet, this seemingly universal medium for love and affection no longer applies when we take a step outside of our human perspective. What other creature would savor a few seconds of chocolate in the way that humans do? Sure, many can eat chocolate, but such creatures eat it with neither the luxury nor the passion that humans have when eating chocolate. Chocolate could only be a source of nutrients. Animals eat what they need to survive, so their purpose of chocolate is reduced to nourishment to function. In simplifying chocolate as food, the entire connotation of chocolate is lost. No longer is there the excitement of receiving a gift out of want instead of need. The "kiss" that chocolate transfers begins to seems more silly than romantic. Every sense of interpersonal relationship, care, and affection disappears once the human aspect is taken away. Therefore, the value of chocolate must be a creation of humans; what becomes universal in chocolate (the food itself) then no longer matters to humans. It is not chocolate that humans believe to be universal, but rather the idea of chocolate.

Leave! Where?

Imagine an exit in nature. Where can one find a passage from an "inside" space to an "outside" space? With one scene of nature seamlessly flowing into another, it should be difficult to find something as clearly defined as an exit. Yet, people have constructed the idea that places should have exits, and that walls should be built between what is "inside" and what is "outside." Now, with a defined inside and outside, people have been able to force upon nature the concept of an exit.

"Exit" implies a sense of escape. If one does not like the space inside, he or she may take the exit to an alternative space. However, this purpose for an exit is somewhat ironic because the reason an exit could be made is because the inside space is an escape from the outside space, or nature. Therefore, with both sides acting as an escape, there results a situation in which neither inside nor outside is an escape at all; the construction of an exit implies that one wishes to escape, yet both sides of the exit are places that one wishes to escape from. Consequently, the exit does not aid in escaping from either standpoint. I note this contradiction to reveal how ridiculousness of the "exit" when applied to nature. Yet, humans assume the exit is natural, maintaining it as a requirement of construction.

Epiphany

I was just folding my laundry in the evening and thinking about the creative project we were assigned. I really had no idea what to do for this project, since ideas don't come easily to me. I had just come back from working 9 hours in the lab, and there was still homework to do. I was stressed out. But everyone is stressed out. There are plenty of people I could name who have much more to do than I do. At the very least, I assumed that others have, at some point, felt more stress than I felt then.

Is that really true though? Could I really say that every single being could relate to what I was feeling? How would a dog feel about my being stressed? Maybe it doesn't matter? Intrigued at this sudden rush of thoughts, I quickly scribbled whatever ideas I could grasp from it. And so, this idea started (text in image):

"We assume that these things are universal but really they only exist in the realm of human existence. Do animals have epiphanies, as I have right now? It is such a strange unique feeling, and as most would agree, but the moment we bring apply it to something non-human, it makes no sense..."

So, from smoothing out the creases in my clothing, I began to smooth out what one could call a wrinkle in our daily perception. In a sense, this can be seen as evening the creases of the binder paper where I wrote my idea. However, I am not speaking of the two folds stretching across the page; instead, the wrinkles that I aim to fix reside in the words written on the page. What else did I miss How much of our sensation is really universal, and is everything we see, taste, smell, hear, and feel only human?