At times I am certain that many today are not human, not just in the figurative sense, but literally. No, I’m not playing around the edges of alien theories. I am simply stating that that which makes us human seems to be missing in so many these days.

Are we human if we cannot feel? If we cannot taste the ache, if we cannot slip into the shoes of another? It seems those who cannot, or perhaps choose not, have set their humanness aside for comfort … but I’d guess that comfort is quite elusive.

Are we human if we do not suffer? The loss of security? The loss, the sting of the little deaths, the loss of a safety net, the loss of a job, the loss of hearth and home? If we are so far beyond those needs that they are no longer a consideration, is it possible to retain our humanity? Could we ever relate to those who still do?

Are we human if we do not love, love so deeply that a loved one’s death does not rip us apart, so completely that allowing any one to suffer is entirely out of the question, so absolutely that we love regardless, despite evidence, that we love unconditionally whether the other appears worthy or not, whether they appear to love us, to love our world, or not?

Revenge is not sweet; it is poison. Getting even doesn’t even out anything. Cruelty will never create a kind world. War is not the way to peace.

Are we fully human if we are not fully divine too, if we have disenfranchised our better angels, if we no longer listen to the truth of ourselves, to the truth of those who appear to be other, to the muddy bloody truth of earth and sky?

Are we even alive or simply a phantom, a bag of skin? No, not even that, are we pretending to be human, pretending to be something, anything, pretending to simply be, hoping, praying that no one finds out we’re frauds? Is that human? Is that alive?

What does it mean to be fully human? That’s a question only you can answer for yourself. My answer cannot be yours, for if it was, you’d be trying to be me, as unhuman as it gets, not you.

I know what it means to me, how it asks me to be, but that is for me to be, not for you to see, so I’ll be me. Just me, as I am, naked and real, with all my flaws, with my wounds exposed. Nothing to hide anymore. To me, that’s truly human.

The absolute beauty of this is, is while I may be asking the questions, you get to decide what being truly human is for you?

Amaya Gayle is the author of 6 books, the latest Actuality; infinity at play, published by New Saram Press. https://amzn.to/3Rd4CTY

Image: Adobe Stock Photo, Fantasy mystical and divine sentient yggrasil tree in shape of a human head. God concept art. Religious mythology. Generative art, by Ron, Generated with AI