Why We Can’t All Just Get Along

Something compelling happens when you become curious about the world and your place in it. You begin to pay attention more and more — until you’re only not paying attention when you try not to. The things you observe suddenly mean more than what they once did. Slowly, a universal theme unfolds. Regardless of medium, everything seems to be conveying one clear message.

At first, it seems like mere coincidence, until coincidences happen again and again, day after day — too often to be coincidences. You’ll notice that you hear something in the evening that you heard that morning. You’ll see a poster that says exactly what you were just thinking. You look at a wall, admiring all the imaginative street art on display, and you see what looks like your name with a big heart replacing one of the letters. How did the wall know you needed love that day?

There is only one story. It’s told again and again because no one was listening the first, second, or two-thousandth time. But the storyteller is relentless. He’ll get the message across, or die trying. Just kidding. He can’t die.

I wonder if the ocean waves can tell each other apart? Are they sad when their friends crash against the shore? Do the waves from the Pacific have a beef with the waves from the Atlantic? Do they want to exterminate each other?