The Case for Humans

My friend Susan, a claims adjuster by trade, has recently been grappling with a change in management control at her firm, as well as her concerns about proving herself to a brand new leadership team.

The other day, Susan told me about a dream she’d had. In the dream, she found herself standing outdoors in the afternoon sun before a panel of four judges: a sea otter, a red tailed hawk, an eight-point Mule Deer buck, and a massive 400-year-old Valley Oak tree. Susan described their mood as “stern, intimidating, and in no mood for nonsense.”

“Really… I don’t understand what you have to offer,” said the Sea Otter. “It’s not like you can float forever in the ocean, eating all your meals there, drinking salt water and rafting with your friends.”

“You aren’t fire resistant,” grumbled the Valley Oak. “You wouldn’t last five minutes if your body caught on fire.” He scowled. “Even if the top of your head doesn’t burn, there won’t be any rebirth.”

“I know you’re clever with your hands, but really… can you spot a mouse from one hundred feet in the air?” shrieked the Hawk.

“And how about your digestive system?” asked the Mule Deer Buck rhetorically. “Two stomachs are better then one when it comes to eating just about anything and surviving.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Susan stammered. No one spoke. The ability of these living things to survive in the most extreme conditions, combined with her own undeniable fragility, left her with a feeling of awe and, as she described it, utter uselessness. “It didn’t help,” she told me, “that I couldn’t really claim superior cognitive intelligence, given that our main role as human beings, to date, seems to be to eliminate or pollute the very habitats that make the lives of these beings possible.” She shook her head. “Suddenly, opposable thumbs seemed so yesterday.”

She went on. “Here I’ve been so worried about communicating what a great claims adjustor I am, and suddenly my whole value as a human being is called into question. I mean, what is my purpose here? What is anybody’s purpose? The animals and plants seemed so certain of their own roles.”

Susan and I soon found ourselves in a discourse about who we are as human beings, and the fact that we don’t have an obvious ecological niche to fill. We decided that we are “homo tabula rasa:” those beings that come into this world and actually get to discover who they are, define the contribution they will make and create the ecological and social niche they will fill. At the end of our conversation, Susan admitted she felt relieved by this insight.

We’re all concerned about dwindling resources and changing natural environments that have the power to impact the quality of human life, but I wonder if we are spending too much time on the symptoms, and not enough time on the origin of our condition. Following Susan’s dream I have been reflecting not only on my own purpose but on the purpose of humankind overall.

When a panel of fauna and flora stare me down and ask me to justify my existence, how will I answer? What is the case for humans?

Nancy Adamson, LMFT is a coaching professional and therapist who finds the natural world a constant source of inspiration and instruction.