I realize I’m mixing Latin and Greek, but we should change our label from homo sapien to homo mythos.
We are not the man who knows. Neither are we, as some have suggested, homo sapien sapien, the man who knows he knows. This is not us, at least on a fundamental level.
Before knowledge, before wisdom, before self-reflective awareness even, there must be a story. One day the first sentient being emerged and found itself in the middle of the story, a mystery novel.
The only way to make sense of the world is to start telling stories. We story ourselves all day long. “How was your day?” Shall I story you to death?
Each story demands we back up and tell another story in order for the current one to make sense. We discover an infinite regress of stories leading to a time before we were born, before anything was born.
Implicit in the human construct of time is a story, infinite stories perhaps. Infinite stories that insist on telling the same story, the Infinite Story.
We tell stories. We invent stories. We are stories. We are storied.
We are Homo Mythos.