—the real and the imaginary ...
The footprint we leave on this world should be negligible, if not virtually non-existent.
There should, in fact, be no footprint whatsoever of that which we mistakenly identify as ourselves.
There was no trace of us before we were born, was there?
Why then do we believe that there should be some sort of remnant of us after we are gone?
What is the source of this hubris?
It belies a severely inflated opinion of our purely imaginary worth.
The culture we are a part of is of course the primary culprit in the creation of this virtual madness that deludes us into thinking that we have some sort of personal value.
This delusion is nigh universally embraced, and for a very simple reason: it feels good.
We are naturally drawn to positive vibrations, and just as put off by the negative variety.
But the meaninglessness is all around us, and especially in the night sky.
How many billions of human souls have enjoyed stargazing over the course of human history; and how many will yet enjoy it?
After humanity has exhausted itself, and it will most certainly arrive - eventually - at its own extinction, those same stars will yet be burning and do so without the presence of a single human eye to note it.
Our insignificance is thus not an imaginary thing, but our perceived personal worth is nothing less than the stuff of fantasy.