Evolution seems impossible.

I sometimes think that to myself. I mean, come on. Have you seen how utterly complex and awesome our bodies are? Chemical reactions and electrical activity control our movements. We have an immune system capable of wiping out foreign cells. Hell, even if they’re simple compared to us, simple bacteria and the like aren’t terribly simple.

But then I think about something. What does it mean for me to be alive right now? What had to have happened? Well, I had to have a mother. And she had to live long enough to give birth to me. Not only that, but my chances of survival are greater if she stays alive until I reach adulthood.

Then what about her? She had to have a mother. And a mother before her. And a mother before her. Ancestral lines are very unforgiving. If any of those people had died before they could have had offspring, I’d be done. That ancestral line, the one that had been going on for billions of years and might have gone on for another billion of years is completely finished.

So for us to be here, we had to have a mother, and she had to have a mother, and she had a mother before her, and before her and before her and before her! For four billion years this has been going on. You are the result of 4 billion years of creatures having to live long enough to create offspring. You are the result of hundreds of millions, possibly hundreds of billions of generations.

If one of your ancestors — just ONE — was slightly too slow; too stupid; too easily made sick; incapable of defending itself, feeding itself, and getting laid, then you wouldn’t be here right now.

Just think about that, and let it simmer in your mind for a while. I submit that the evolution over billions of years of all the planet’s creatures is far more beautiful and awesome than any creation story.