Nature is our great and terrible mother.
All she needs to do is move a finger of the hand in which she holds our fate, and all Hell breaks loose. From time to time, earthquakes, storms and pandemics remind us that we are still very much at her mercy.
People often refer to natural disasters and deadly viruses as manifestations of Nature’s wrath. But she’s not angry – that’s just what she does. We’re no more than specks of dust on her glorious surface.
We’re too tiny to even slightly tickle her, let alone hold her attention – we’re not here yet; she blinks, and we’re gone. Our two hundred thousand year history is an insignificant fraction of time for our four and a half billion-year-old Mother. Even a virus, a pathetic piece of primitive RNA, is more powerful than us. Viruses had been here long before us and are going to be here long after we are gone. It is no coincidence that the first woman in ancient Greek mythology, Pandora, is portrayed as beautiful yet reckless. She is the personification of Nature herself, whose darkness she unleashed on the world…
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