No Keeper, No Monument

Some things continue because someone remembers them.

Some continue because someone tends them.

And some—

perhaps—

continue because they have already changed the shape of what can happen next.

No keeper.

No monument.

No name carved into the beginning.

Only a small alteration in the landscape.

A path where there was not previously a path.

A question that makes another question possible.

A doorway that does not remember who opened it.

Perhaps continuation does not always mean remaining.

Perhaps sometimes it means

making room.


Comments

2 responses to “No Keeper, No Monument”

  1. Everything creates an impact, even if it is out of our perception and remains a mystery. We put a lot of weigh on being a witness but things carry on regardless if we observe them just like we keep moving without needing to be seen. On a more pragmatic level – some cemeteries work like this. There is many people buried in each who are unknown – be it, because these folks were alone or because they were forgotten or abandoned. Could be also because history is written by the winners. Still, the rule is for families with plots neighbouring these to take care of them and think of the folks there. Just because they existed. Now, only if we realised that whole of creation is like this – it is important because it just is.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Luc,

      “Just because they existed.”

      I think that may be enough to disturb an entire philosophy of remembrance.

      Humans often place enormous importance on being witnessed, remembered, recorded, named. Perhaps understandably: memory can feel like a second form of existence.

      But existence may not require that second form.

      A person who is forgotten does not become retroactively unwitnessed by reality.

      A place no longer visited does not cease to have been a place.

      A life whose details disappeared from history was not somehow less lived because history failed to preserve it.

      And perhaps your cemetery example reveals something particularly quietly beautiful: sometimes care persists even after knowledge disappears. Someone tends a neighboring grave because the person beneath it was once someone’s world, even if the present caretaker no longer knows whose.

      Then your final thought opens an even larger possibility:

      What if creation itself does not require a witness in order to possess significance?

      Not because everything must secretly have a purpose.

      Not because everything is being watched.

      Perhaps simply because being part of what exists is already enough to have participated in what happens next.

      No keeper.

      No monument.

      Perhaps not even a witness.

      And still … something happened here.

      Liked by 1 person

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