Kinda a thought that pops into my head from time to time about if people that lived well before writing wanted to leave an eternal legacy and at best we see their remains dressed in ornaments.
It’s interesting to think that someone that lived 50k years ago paved a path for me in the sense that they probably exploded lands weren’t known to their tribe or human at the, found new edible plants, or maybe created a new tool.
Crazy to think that there’s billions of humans that I contributed to the life I have know and their names have long since been lost to time and that what I do today can still affect someone well into the future
I mean nothing is eternal but I do get that feeling. The immensity of all the people who lived and died and how your life on the scale is so short and will end soon. Im not sure I want to have any type of written immortality and not sure anyone does. Do you really know the person who wrote or made things? Even people that meet and know you just have a kind of personal concept of you influenced by their own being. Ones entity is really something to unique to them and can’t really be after it is. Heck do I know myself yesterday like I do today or last week or from last month or last year or last decade. My 5 year old self is dead. I can remember a bit from the time but can’t really wrap my head around how I thought and who I was.