It’s not.

We can go further.  We have the capacity.

I think of Walt Whitman’s ‘child who went forth every day,’ open to the “other” ‘with wonder or pity or love or dread’.*

Reality is all there is if we stop moving.  The imagination explored through moving on changes reality.

We have not arrived.

Poverty, racism, illiteracy, gender-violence, environmental catastrophe, conflict and too much more tell us this.

(*From Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.)