Get a bag. Unzip it. Put the following three things inside: a book, a shirt, and an extra pants.
How does it feel? Is it heavy? Not so.
Now we get to the necessities. The family, friends, relatives, childhood crushes, and your favorite memories.
The bag should get pretty heavier by now.
Let's get on with this.
Take the bag, give it a good shake, and open the other compartment.
This time, we fill in the intangibles.
Smiles, curses, frowns, nightmares, dreams, despair, desolation, destiny, goals, plans, memories- tons of memories, and your tears. Litres upon litres of crystal clear over-the-years-accumulated tears.
Now zip the bag.
Look at it.
Should be looking pretty bulky by now.
Now hold it. Hold it with both your hands.
Sling it unto your shoulders, those muscular toned shoulders.
Now feel the weight of it.
Feel the weight of the bag.
Feel the weight of life.
Good and bad.
Now walk ten miles. Ten long miles across the naked face of Earth.
Walk the rocky paths.
Past the beautiful town Rankweil.
Through the dark caves of Lechuguilla.
Over the Chomolungma.
And on to the City that never sleeps; New York.
Stop.
Look around you. Look at all those hunchbacks. Those hunchbacks standing and waiting and walking and eating and drinking and playing and living. And living. And dying.
And hunchbacks, still.
Look at them.
Look at the naked truth of life.
Look at it.
Now close your eyes.
Remember. Remember the sound of blue birds singing in Spring in the town of Rankweil. Listen to them singing of freedom. Of flight. Of escape.
Remember. Remember the smell of sulphur. The smell of water. The smell of rocky solidified minerals decorated along the walls of Lechuguilla. Touch it. Feel the surface. Feel the face of this creature jutting out of the mirror. Look into the mirror now. The ripples.
And close your eyes. The eyes of your mind. Close them again.
Now remember the Chomolungma. Remember that feeling. The highest peak of life. Of any living, breathing lifeform. You're on top of it all.
Now forget.
Now feel the weight of the bag.
Remember the bag now.
And open your eyes.
Hear the screams of cars and motors. See the blinding light of billboards. Smell the disgusting air of a combination of sewer wastes, fried food, carbon monoxide, and factory wastes. Smell that acrid smell. Feel the dying Earth. Feel its slowing heartbeat. Hear its soft cries. Listen now.
Listen and you will hear her cry.
Hear her cries as men rip apart her veins, stab her with steely pipes and drain her blood, cover her beautiful face with poison powder, kill her children and skin their lives away, slowly, painfully.
Do you hear her cries?
Do you hear Earth's cry?
Listen.
And you will hear.
Hush now. Let the rain fall down.