Memory is existence
If you stop moving, what are you but dead?
Today we learn a nasty and unrelenting truth that, yes, it turns out, red on the head = whiter than bread. The sun looks upon my kind and thinks "What a sad and pasty barrel full of fish for me to burn" It's hilarious, life often is.
We're all grasping for legacy. What is the psychology behind the people who don't call themselves writers, nay blush at the suggestion, and start a blog? And they write the things they know. This is what happened, this is what I think, this is important. For what purpose? Legacy, prints in the sand, the internet is forever ergo these words are forever ergo I am forever. The pursuit of a sort of mental immortality. It doesn't happen often in this life, most of the prints you leave aren't gonna be in someone's RSS feed but rather the RSS feed reader of their heart (word-smithery!!). No, but that crap's true, most of us are just gonna leave love and that grace has to be enough because it'll probably all that's left. "He was a good man. She had beautiful spirit. He owed me five bucks" We equate the number and importance of others thought and memories about us as our quantifiable value. It's hard not to lose sleep thinking about it, but this isn't our world, not really. And guess who's actually in value-giving business.
So with what mindset and heart should we go about leaving our life's artifacts? The love thing would probably be a step in the right direction. When all the lights go out the only candle that still flickers is love. When all voices silence the only note that rings bright and true is love. Everything else is dark and flat. It will fade and die without love, it's gonna happen, I've seen it. Trust me, I'm a doctor.
Today we learn a nasty and unrelenting truth that, yes, it turns out, red on the head = whiter than bread. The sun looks upon my kind and thinks "What a sad and pasty barrel full of fish for me to burn" It's hilarious, life often is.
We're all grasping for legacy. What is the psychology behind the people who don't call themselves writers, nay blush at the suggestion, and start a blog? And they write the things they know. This is what happened, this is what I think, this is important. For what purpose? Legacy, prints in the sand, the internet is forever ergo these words are forever ergo I am forever. The pursuit of a sort of mental immortality. It doesn't happen often in this life, most of the prints you leave aren't gonna be in someone's RSS feed but rather the RSS feed reader of their heart (word-smithery!!). No, but that crap's true, most of us are just gonna leave love and that grace has to be enough because it'll probably all that's left. "He was a good man. She had beautiful spirit. He owed me five bucks" We equate the number and importance of others thought and memories about us as our quantifiable value. It's hard not to lose sleep thinking about it, but this isn't our world, not really. And guess who's actually in value-giving business.
So with what mindset and heart should we go about leaving our life's artifacts? The love thing would probably be a step in the right direction. When all the lights go out the only candle that still flickers is love. When all voices silence the only note that rings bright and true is love. Everything else is dark and flat. It will fade and die without love, it's gonna happen, I've seen it. Trust me, I'm a doctor.