Poem

Humanness

Now ... what makes humanness?

Languaging.

What makes a man a man?

Nothing more than his sex.

But ... what makes a man a human being?

His sensuality and tenderness in

open awareness of his earthly

interconnections as he dances the

recursive dance of eating

playing, and kissing.

And ... what makes a woman a woman?

The same

through her own sexuality.

But ... what makes her a human being?

Her tenderness and sensuality in

open awareness of her earthly

interconnectedness as she dances

the recursive dance of eating,

playing, and kissing.

What is the difference, then?

None and everything, since the

woman is always aware of being

in her humanness a cosmic source

out of nothingness, while the man

has to learn this anew when he

becomes seduced and enchained by

the delight of linear reasoning that

the woman has always known to be

a transitory winter blossom.

And novelty, what is novelty in all this?

An unexpected turn in an always

recursive dancing dance.

Empty seems human life to be!

Yes! ... Or rich, in the fullness

of an always changing present

of eating, playing, and kissing.

Humberto Maturana