Tonight's exercise: write about god(s).
When I was a kid, a good little Catholic boy (really! honestly!) I learned about God, "one God, the Father, almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth".
And when I was a kid, I spent a lot of time thinking about what I'd be when I grew up. You can't help that when you're a kid, every adult asks you. They have to figure out what box to put you in: future doctor, or future ditch-digger? When I thought about what I'd be as a adult, sometimes I thought about what my dad did for a living. I was learning that the way of the world was this: children grow up to be like their parents.
And if, then, god is the father, if we are children of god? What will we be when we grow up? Indeed, what are we right now? The children of birds are birds. The children of fish are fish. The children of lions are lions. What are the children of gods?
Of course gods are not in any ways always wise. Consider the tale of the apple of discord and the judgment of Paris, where three goddess's attempts to bribe of mortal so they can win a beauty contest - a beauty contest! - lead to the Trojan War. Or look at most of the Old Testament tales of Jehovah: "God said to Abraham, kill me a son." I always got a little nervous, sitting next to my father in the pews at church, when that story came up. Or Amaterasu Omikami, hiding in a cave after a slight from the other kami and fooled into coming out by a mirror - not the sharpest tanto in the drawer.
Perhaps being children of gods is not such a prideful thing after all.
Perhaps we should stick with knowing ourselves to be children of apes. There, at least we have some upward mobility.