The Unfinished Business of Being Human

 

The Unfinished Business of Being Human

(Monologue)

The older I get, the more I understand—

we’re still learning how to be human.

We’ve mapped the stars,

but we’ve forgotten how to clean our streets.

We teach children to dream big,

but not always how to compost, to conserve,

or to care for what’s already here.

I have walked through ancient cities,

places rich with history and prayer,

yet poor in plumbing and dignity.

I’ve seen the shine of skyscrapers reflected in puddles of human waste.

We have conquered time zones, but not our own habits.

We’ve mastered machines, but not the art of being decent stewards.

Even cats bury their waste.

Isn’t that something?

Nature still has a sense of order.

It still knows how to restore itself.

But we—humans—we are tangled in the myth that progress means more,

when really, true progress means better.

This is a call.

Not of judgment, but of awakening.

A call for environmental responsibility.

Let us honor the Earth not just with slogans, but with systems.

Let us build infrastructure as sacred work—clean water, sanitation,

sustainable energy, public spaces that nourish the soul.

A call for education.

Not just to pass exams, but to pass on wisdom.

Teach the children how to grow food, how to protect rivers,

how to turn waste into soil,

and ideas into actions.

Teach empathy, teach cooperation.

Let every classroom be a greenhouse for global consciousness.

And a call for spiritual renewal.

Not a return to dogma,

but to discipline of the heart.

A return to reverence—for life, for land, for labor.

We must remember that spirituality is not separate from society.

It is the root system that sustains it.

Let us build a future where we do not just recycle our plastics,

but also our priorities.

Where we do not only develop economies,

but also deepen our humanity.

The unfinished business of being human

is not about what we can take,

but what we are willing to give—

to each other, to the Earth,

to the generations we will never meet.

The older I get, the more I see:

this planet is our shared home.

Our waste is our mirror.

Our faith is our compass.

And our actions—those are the prayers that matter now.