from any vantage point, any argument has a point. we justify each of our actions to ourselves, convinced that we deserve certain things or that our point of view is correct. we burrow into our surroundings, claiming as much space as we can, as much resources as we can amass. we push against anything that might hurt, that deny us this sought after destiny. for better or worse, we forge our ways into each other and into our surroundings. we do our best to leave our mark.

and in all of us is the center. each one of us I, everyone the focal point with everything else spinning around it. for it does not matter the size of the objects, there will always be others circling it and it, in itself, floating around other objects. each moment and object capturing the world in all of its essence, its good and its bad. from every angle the center can be moved, from any situation the importance can be shifted and from every point in life perspectives shift and our view of things center.

who is it that is looking out into this world? what is the object that we call I? the far tails of the universe, the beginning or end or somewhere in the middle, its a guess that our ego is anything other then the vessel that carries it. a mixture of organisms and photons and other molecular products that gathered on this piece of rock. just the right light, just the right dark. in order to bring it all to a perfect recipe we see and feel as life. just the right amount of ingredients to bring about consciousness, if only for a bit of time.

we become what we think about.

mr. nightingale