“Humans are not ‘a species’. In point of fact, ‘species’ is a convenience of distinction in representational thought. There are »no species. There are forms. And the forms are expressions of a transcendental unity that produces them.

What humans ‘are’ is not properly ‘superior’ to anything. Not dirt, stones, stars, or gnats. Because without »all of the beings, there »are no humans.

But one way to think of us, relative to the myriad wombs that produce us moment-to-moment… is a flower. The living flower in which »all of the species of Earth are expressed. We are the flower of this world. A »reproductive organ.

But we are not reproducing our world, its forms, or its histories.

We are ‘broken’ in such a way that, as a species, what we ‘reproduce’ … is death. As machines. We reproduce the »absence of the world, its beings, and forms. Mechanically. Maniacally. At ever increasing rates, in ever-increasing ways.

This is not our nature. It’s a strange kind of accident, really. A complex one; where loss of our intimate connections with Origin, the divine, and the living planet… led us to reproduce those losses, as objects. Gravestones, in a sense. Except that unlike a gravestone, a machine reproduces death merely by existing. And amplifies this by many orders of magnitude when ‘activated’.

We are the flower of the forms of this world and their origin. Our nature is true, and we as persons, are ‘not of this species’ either, each person is so unique, that many of us do not actually belong ‘to the species homo sapiens’.

We wear that form, but we, and our natures, are from Beyond.

And »this is our actual nature.

To be from, and for… Beyond.”

— infraheard