The Pitfalls of Habit
And what we can do to calm the flames of its unyielding temperament

We are slaves to our biology.
Evolutionary pressures paved the way towards intellectual hubris, and as a result, the loincloth was invented. Still, our brains are notoriously unreliable and equally unimpressive; we knowingly cling onto our behavioral dispositions, and we do it proudly. We term this phenomenon: habits. The Oxford English Dictionary presents this definition:
habit (n.)
A vestige of a past humiliation.
There was once a time where Man roamed the savanna purely out of love for the Earth Mother. The Earth Mother was kind and generous; She gave us all that we needed, and all that would ever be needed. The warmth that emanated from her womb allowed Kale to sprout from her very flesh. And kale would fill the bellies of Man for days to come.
But alas, Man.
Man is wicked. Man is loathsome. Born with gluttony, desires, and an inextricable lust for crude oil, Man is, without a doubt, an abominable curse. Man, who knew nothing more than the growls of their stomach, grew tired of waiting. Man grew weary of letting another hold the reins.
We want more, we want more!
Echoes of dissent would fill the air, and the air became thick with a contemptuous stench. Man would readily inhale this air; the substrate would solidify, and thus would arise, the true ethos of Man. Grab the Torches, Now is the Time! The Time we take matters into our own Hands! For we are Man! Man is Good! Man is Wisdom! We are Man!
We took off gleefully and bravely and serendipitously and annexed the lands, mountains, valleys, forests, rivers, and homes of other tribes who we deemed unfit, strange, or different. The Earth Mother cried out in agony as we tore into her flesh and womb — to take what did not belong to us — and we did it under the pretense of Good. Because Man is Good. Man is a wild flurry of stabs and swings. The earth mother toppled over, her hair strewn across her face in disarray, and she lay down at our bloody feet, and pleaded for mercy. And we laughed in the face of our Earth Jester. Agriculture, we called it. Agriculture! Agriculture! Grains! Corn! Bread! Pasta! We are merciful, so we shall let you keep your Hair! But we are also Barbers! Hair must be no longer than Shoulder Length!
We killed the Earth Mother. And a time will soon come where we will have to pay dearly for the sins of our Fathers.
And the sins of Us.
