Bricks in the Wall

All in all are we just another brick in the wall???

Here goes the famous lyrics by “pink Floyd” from “The wall”.

I don't need no walls around me.
And I don't need no drugs to calm me.
I have seen the writing on the wall.
Don't think I need any thing at all.
No. Don't think I need anything at all.
All in all it was all just the bricks in the wall.
All in all it was all just the bricks in the wall.

My intention here is not to introduce you to pink floyd, nor his work, nor his philosophy. I just wanted you to wake up, if you are sleeping; take note lest you should keep yourself in the dark. Think of all the life we have lived to this moment. Question yourself what have I done to make a difference? The difference necessarily not to others lives, but to your life. Think of actions made that transformed you for the better, changed the way you live, made you and those around you happier. Where are we going, aren't ever one of us dissatisfied with being "just another brick". Deep inside aren't we carving to be different to be noticed, to be successful, to be a brick not in the wall.

No I am not offering any solutions here, I just want you to think of this. Everyone of us is unique, everyone of has our own special talents. Then why is it that we are just another brick to make walls, the purpose of which is not clear. As Robert Frost says in his "Mending Wall"
'Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out'. Have we ever asked ourselves this, what is the purpose of this existence, to be a part of a wall, to be just another brick in the wall. Try it once.

No I am not asking you not to be a brick, I am asking you not be just another brick. Let your brick shine, let it proclaim of its existence, let it bask in the glory of its uniqueness. Is one life time not sufficient to achieve this? Aren't you capable of this? I leave it for you to decide.

What you want is where you go. Hope you will never face the situation Wordsworth describes:

THE World is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours
And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.—Great God! I'd rather be