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.)