I feel so much like a bacterium with mitochondria and a central nervous system.
The point being, of course, that both humanity’s impetus and cunning feel less primal than the automatic, basal, unidirectional, undifferentiated metabolism. That the simple “keep going” of life is more important than whatever notion of self and of well-being.
I say: neither is just the pull of life, the drive to do things, this urge usually called instinct, in one hand, nor the conscience, reason and understanding, on the other, neither are central to the “nature” of being human, neither is our essence. The dispute over if instinct or reason are the basis of humanity dwells in the unneeded. Over and before all of it we are still bags of organic juices, of chemical reactions, small tubes that eat and shit, bacteria that blindly try to swim amidst the flow of nutrients.
But, of course, that is only a feeling I have, sometimes.