We are born, we are shadows, we cast shadows of our own, and then we are gone. All anyone can hope for is to be remembered two shadows deep.
– Hugh Howey, Wool (Ch. 23)
The emphasis that some of us place on being remembered … I dunno. What do I care if I’m remembered after I shuffle off the mortal coil, or how, or by whom? What should any of us care?
On a related note – although I’m not sure exactly how – a religious friend and I were having coffee recently when the conversation turned to the topic of mirror neurons. These are the brain cells that he believes are responsible for empathy, which surprised me. I trotted out my hoary old analogy of the brain being like a radio that tunes in, but doesn’t create, the music it plays. I mentioned what I consider to be the materialist trap of making scientific proof the touchstone of truth, and the lack of that proof the touchstone of falsehood.
Here’s John Merrick’s mother putting a beautiful button on the story of her disfigured son:
Never. Oh, never. Nothing will die. The stream flows, the wind blows, the cloud fleets, the heart beats. Nothing will die.