Gnomepoiesis

I wonder who we are and what we are doing here all the time.

Being the self-centered lout that all humans tend to be, I wonder who I am and what I’m doing here. Sometimes I feel as though I should be doing something important, building an intellectual monument to sit in humanity’s great ideological sculpture-garden. Yet I wonder, what am I going to build, how I am going to build it? Would that construct at all assuage the existential angst of self-actualization?

Is it self-actualization I’m seeking? What is “It?” Why do I feel, right now, at this very moment, that I need some purpose in life? Perhaps it is my own dissatisfaction with a “typical” purpose. How do I size all that greatness floating out in the aether? And yet…”My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”

Way over yonder there is new frontier. Would it be so hard for you to come and visit me here?

Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste brought death into the World, and all our woe

Sanjaya, tell me what my sons and the sons of Pandu did when they met, wanting to battle on the field of Kuru, on the Field of sacred duty?