fractal007
Senior Member
since 06-01-2000
Posts 1956
|
0 posted 04-26-2009 01:10 PM
| |
All this Anselm had designed. The trusses in the buildings, the information interchange systems, the decorative lights, the highways, the towers, the streets, and the skyline itself were all products of Anselm's imagination.
And so, it was with some disappointment that Anselm finally acceded when his superiors pointed out that none of this was needed. Anselm's work had been done already by someone else. All Anselm needed to do now was to use it.
Slowly, Anselm sought to detach himself from the buildings and the interconnected systems. Reluctantly, he descended into the one thing he'd lost in all the years of creating – himself. The buildings and the skyscrapers and the networks and the buzzing nightlife all faded slowly. Anselm began to see again the wilderness of self and of raw emotion stretching out around him. It was so depressing to be with himself again, no barriers to separate him from what was primal.
But something was different. Where Anselm had expected to see nothingness and emptiness, he now saw wanderers in the same desert. Some were crying, others laughing, while a select few had faces of stone which radiated a joy of acceptance. He turned now to the nearest stone-faced woman. He could see in the coldness a potential he never knew could exist.
“Excuse me,” Anselm said to the woman as she treaded through the sand.
“Hm?”
“Where are you going?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“I notice you're walking. You must be going somewhere.”
“Well to come to think of it, I'm walking toward you. You're where I'm going.”
Anselm looked puzzled at the woman, whose passive face betrayed an equanimity toward circumstance and an acceptance of possibility.
“Where are you going?” The woman now asked.
“I just got here,” said Anselm.
“Just got here? You've been standing there like that for the past two years.”
Suddenly it dawned on Anselm. Mind and matter were not one and the same. While he had been trying to escape he had never moved an inch. But how could he be happy like this woman? How could he breathe each breath as though it were his first and live each second as though it were his last?
“Don't follow me.”Life's short. Think hard!
Me!
|
Main Forums
)
