This is how the ameba remain ameba, swirling in murky waters for all eternity, curious why the world doesn’t move to their tune and beat.
This is how the ameba spend their time, watching others take a leap into the perpetual currents that surround them.
This is how the ameba stigmatize reinvention — how singular and rigid tradition turns into a bane, urging its advocates down an evolutionary cul-de-sac.
This is how a lost moment can last a lifetime, a lifetime of lifetimes, all of which are spent in the shadow of wasted opportunity.
Pause and take a look around you. Ask yourself who among the countless people you know seem to have lost their moments in time, an event for which they want to make you and others feel guilty? Who among them did so on account of stubbornness and spite, despite their ability to break through when they had the chance? Who among you is dangling in the wake of an unfulfilled dream, looking to punish others for his or her own failures? Who among you is a proper ameba, stuck in time, forever in love with his or her vestiges and atavisms, floating in stagnant ponds, putrefying slowly? Who among them in turn are ameba swirling in the torrent that washed away their puddles, dragged all the way back into the river, back into the sea and raging ocean, into heaving, restless waters where they are forced to negotiate a space primarily occupied and controlled by those who made their move . . . who took a tiny step or two when it mattered most?
Who among them are ameba who roam the world confused and daunted by the sight of organisms that came together over countless generations to form something larger and more sophisticated than what they started out as?
Who among them are ameba who don’t consider functionality a good enough reason to break with their tradition?
Who among them are dependent, lost forever in the shadows of the past? Who among them refuse to grow up, dead set on occupying a space that refuses to adjust to the times and circumstances?
Who among them are microorganisms befouling the fresh water you drink? Who among them are protozoans infecting the eyes of those who want to see, the ears of those who want to hear, the sense of balance in those who strive for equilibrium and the audacity and excess in those who continuously seek to break the boundaries and expand their world?
Who among them are protozoans trying to convince you to become one, too?
See how it works? This is how the ameba remain ameba: by convincing others to revert back to a primordial, vestigial state of being.
The bad news is that you, too, can become an ameba and join their disjointed, dated, protoplasmic cause. You can remain a vestige, living out your life as you knew it, doing things as always, preserving everything you were granted and bequeathed in the name of all things sacred.
Or you can take a small step out of your pond and create a new world from scratch, out of which something fresh and more fulfilling will emerge, which, in turn, will grow old and obsolete, giving way to something even fresher and newer and more apt and exciting than what preceded it.
And so on and so forth.
Meanwhile the ameba congregate at will, raising storms in puddles, infections in eyeballs, and intestinal flooding.
They also make great material for lab and field research.
Intrigued? Watch this space for more.
From the collection of writings EON: THE ANGRY COMING OF AGE