Mother Nature never isn’t tinkering with paradigms.
It isn’t that she sometimes makes mistakes. What
could a mistake be to Existence? Is-ness is its sum
and total business. Nothing’s rated. No, she tinkers
with her paradigms because it makes her glad:
she’s ecstatically absorbed by the experiment.
Might she prod a few mutations that might render homo
sapiens a bit more really interested in what she’s done?
She only wants them to have fun! Well, some have fun.
But most are sucked down under by the weight of her
infinity: it’s overwhelming for our tiny brains to register
we’re infinite. (Which we don’t know we know, but oh!
we know.) What a pleasure it would be to undergo
a countervailing tidal wave of curiosity about the beautiful
velocity of which all sentience is the child. (Every wave
and particle is sentient.) Let the Cosmos be completely
fascinated with itself! That would be its most sustaining
wealth, the prize her progeny don’t realize they want.
Now Mother Nature has succeeded in devising the revised
female you see here in whom she’s invested an inordinate
proclivity for wanting to know everything. Because she
whisked her requisite ingredients into a chalice, she named
her Alice. She risked the sentimental (Mother Nature’s
all but never that) by a fact which she decided gave
her leave. The chalice had been made by Eve.