eing God, I always try to create things–new and wonderful things that fit together in ways you can’t imagine. But first, I’d like to talk to you about something we all understand very well, failure. Failure and the power of mistakes.
I’m going to start off by telling you a little story about the first time I created life. You see–I always wanted to create something new. I wanted to find what I called The Factor. That aspect of life that made it more than just entertainment.
My first attempt at this was hunger.
I know, it seems simple now, silly even–it gets worse. I created a species of life I called Migs. Migs were these small, rather adorable, creatures, you can see here:
Yes, I was not much on an artist in those days–but these adorable creatures didn’t last very long because I forgot one crucial piece of the puzzle. I didn’t create them with the knowledge of their own hunger, or how to satiate it. So, of course, they began eating the only thing they could think to eat–themselves. Don’t worry, I didn’t bring pictures of that.
Needless to say, they didn’t last long and I was forced to start over. I refined hunger, directed it best I could and came out with the first human beings, as you can see here.
Well, everything seemed okay, they lived, they ate. Then– nothing. And I mean nothing, they just sat around. Occasionally a clever one would take a bite out of another or someone would hit someone with a rock, but it was dull. So, I got back to thinking about that factor. I was sitting there watching one human hit another with a rock, over and over, and over. What started off as a promising–and I’ll admit, humorous endeavor suddenly became very bland. I was losing my funding, I was as low as I’ve been. Here, I made my second mistake. I reached down and crushed the rock-beater into nothing, right there in front of my other creations.
What happened next astonished me. The other human beings gathered around. They looked up and down, they acted in all sorts of strange ways I’d never seen before. Before I could finish my research, funding was pulled and my project was scrapped. But it was from that mistake that I realized the factor, as you know it now; death.
So, I started over. I put together a proposal, got the funding and started again. I looked long and hard at my failures, my mistakes. I not only implemented an end to life but also gave my creations knowledge of their imminent end. The result, as you well know, produced the longest lasting single most entertaining project in history.
The last thing I’d like to leave you with is a message from my creations themselves: “All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterward it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness. Therefore, strengthen the hands that are weak and the knees that are feeble, and make straight paths for your feet.”