An Old Beringian Dude Speaks

Hey kids, listen up, yo.  I'm not some old dude sitting in a dark cave, talking about the old days.  I'm hip to all the stone tools you are using nowadays.  Hafted Clovis points-I've been using them for years.  I can flintknap with all the new technologies.  Check out this bone fish hook.  Of course, back in the day, my generation walked across the land bridge from Asia with noting but skins on our backs and a spear.  That was old school. If you wanted to eat that night, you had to stare an imperial mammoth in the eyes and throw a spear between his ribs.  Kids nowadays.  What have you accomplished, in this land of abundant game?  Surely, nobody can take down a mammoth properly anymore.  You kids are ok though, with your mastery of fire and your petroglyphs.  I guess, you are the future, aren't you?

Sisyphus

From the outside, up there in the sunlight, on those rolling hills you call home, it is easy to come to the conclusion that I am not happy in this new life of mine-pushing a boulder up a gigantic hill, only to watch it roll down the other side.  I suppose, for the first two thousand years, that was the case.  I have learned to live with it.  Perhaps my greatest victory in this immortal existence of mine is that I never let the gods punish me properly.  Over the eons, I have learned how to be happy despite the crushing weight of a boulder pounding against my hands.  There is that beautiful moment, at the top of the hill, when I can see all of Tarterus.  Hellfire all around me.  Prometheus on his rock, vultures circling.  Atlas with a burden of his own.  I release the boulder, and instead of hoping that for this one time in two million iterations, it would stay put at the top of this terrible summit, I relish the first slow second of unbalance and acceleration as gravity takes hold and it starts to roll downhill.  I never rush the walk to retrieve it.  Never ever.  It is a lazy jaunt, with a sidelong look to reflect on sleeping Cerebrus.  There is always another push uphill, but then again, there is always another walk downhill also.