Akira: Visions

I'm working on borrowed time--I'm still trying to get my hands on a new power cord and, in the process, am borrowing laptops left and right; people are kind but I'm trying not to be greedy--so I hope a short blog will be excusable. In that same vein, to save time and not muck-up the person's computer, I am not downloading pictures. I will add them when the opportunity arises, so please excuse me.

My vision of the world has been shifting somewhat. I find myself working over the nature of my existence and what it mean to truly have this one consciousness.

The relics we see have existed for several hundred times my prospected lifetime and will out-last my mortal life. They stand as monuments to the hundreds of thousands of lives that have passed before them and disappeared into the ether. Pressed their feet into the earth and disappeared--their footsteps, the world's single memory of that unique Self, brushed aside in the wind, the war, the industrialization.

The pillars of the Parthenon watch with unclouded vision as the world works to destroy itself, rebuild, and destroy itself once more. As we fight and birth and kill and cry and fret over nothingness and hatred and pain. The vision of the acropolis, the ancient goddess statues that now rest behind glass, the dirt itself--who are the individuals who have passed who we now view as just another faceless prop in a historical movie? What was their life? Were their problems and pains worse than mine own? How equal we are when we both succumb to death and are no long able to selfishly compare mine as worse than yours; mine as louder than yours.

What would it take to step beyond the milky-vision of history and stand out? Who I am to the ancient stones? Will I ever last as long as the marble and terracotta closed up in a museum? When they are dust and I am dust, are we truly equal? Or do they still retain the majesty of what they once where--the memory in books and stories--while I am simply dust for my lack of social impact?

How do I change all of this?