It was a crisp spring morning. The kind that made your feet wet when you stepped outside. The wind was chilly but the sun was warm as Harold the hominid stepped out from his cave, this very morning. This morning in particular, would be no different than any other day, he would scavenge for some food, try not to die and then probably return to his cave and close his eyes. Then when he would open them, it would be morning again.
Harold did not think much, he just simply did. He never thought about the weather, or what food he would eat tomorrow, he just hunted when he was hungry at dealt with the current weather. He lived without a purpose, without a goal, and without the knowledge of how he came to be.
Harold was a thinker, at least in comparative to the other Hominids that lived in close proximity of him. Harold believed that absolutely knew nothing of anything at all. They seemed to have less thought than Harold even imagined was possible at all.
After Harold came home from a long day of hunting, he felt the strongest urge to close his eyes and rest. But today, Harold was not going to listen, he decided he would stay up. As his body became further and further into the procession towards his nightly slumber, he had a thought. The only thought he had ever had in his life. How did he get here, and where exactly was he? He was already awake so he began to ponder on the issue.
Why was Harold here? He knew that he came to be from his parents and their parents, and on and on until the beginning. But then who would have created the first person? Harold became rather puzzled. He knew a person could not make a person, so then how was the first person made? He decided that someone or something had to make the first person. Maybe it was a spirit, he thought, or maybe it was the Earth, maybe it made the occupant of this planet. There was no way for Harold to really be sure, and his mind kept going back to a spirit, so that is what he went with. He decided to name this spirit, he called it Harold. But later when he explained his ideas to the other hominids, they became confused by this name being the same as Harold’s, so he decided to call this spirit who was the giver of life, God.