Ah, Reality, you silent bastard: what are you doing in my dreams?
Not being an overtly religious person, it is hard to put my finger on that which I accept as an article of faith. Pushed to the limit, I might reveal that, on the majority of days, if fully awake and not too intoxicated, I believe that there is an objective reality. And while I can honestly believe that reality is out there, doing its magical thing day after day, I sometimes question my integration into it.
Certainly our minds can play the most devilish of tricks on us, and they can regularly convince us that we are experiencing, first hand, direct and uncensored, cold, hard realness.
This is patently bollocks.
Waking up, even on a particularly clear-headed day, I may as well have the words "DRAMA, BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS" scroll across my vision. On those less-than-crystal days it should read "THIS STORY IS FICTITIOUS. ANY SIMILARITY TO EVENTS, ORGANISATIONS, OR PEOPLE, EITHER LIVING OR DEAD, IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL." I may as well be divining the world through a crystal ball for all the direct contact I have with the known universe.
One fine morning I crawled out of a tent pitched over thick snow and in my groggy dream-state I lay down on the ground. I can't tell you why I did this, but it perhaps indicates my precarious grip on the accepted norms of my role in the real. My vision was filled with an expanse of white so even it bordered on the divine, and what wasn't white was deep blue slipping to yellow. I could only hear my own breathing, but because that was all I could feel as well my senses were starting to get a little bit mixed, like I had synaesthesia. Sky and earth were not concepts that sat very easily in my brain. Through practiced repetition I was comfortable with the notion that there was a reality out there, but I was not connected to it in the typical reciprocal fashion: I don't think it could affect me and I'm sure I couldn't affect it. It was nice.
I would suggest that we are married to our realities- an arranged marriage at that. We may share a passionate love with our partner and spend every day in joy; through zen buddhism or alcoholism we may seek a divorce; We may never learn to understand one another. I find that a few moments absence allows the heart to grow fonder. I liked slipping away from my earth so precisely because of the joyful reunion. I felt very real when I stood on top of a mountain.
Not being an overtly religious person, it is hard to put my finger on that which I accept as an article of faith. Pushed to the limit, I might reveal that, on the majority of days, if fully awake and not too intoxicated, I believe that there is an objective reality. And while I can honestly believe that reality is out there, doing its magical thing day after day, I sometimes question my integration into it.
Certainly our minds can play the most devilish of tricks on us, and they can regularly convince us that we are experiencing, first hand, direct and uncensored, cold, hard realness.
This is patently bollocks.
Waking up, even on a particularly clear-headed day, I may as well have the words "DRAMA, BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS" scroll across my vision. On those less-than-crystal days it should read "THIS STORY IS FICTITIOUS. ANY SIMILARITY TO EVENTS, ORGANISATIONS, OR PEOPLE, EITHER LIVING OR DEAD, IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL." I may as well be divining the world through a crystal ball for all the direct contact I have with the known universe.
One fine morning I crawled out of a tent pitched over thick snow and in my groggy dream-state I lay down on the ground. I can't tell you why I did this, but it perhaps indicates my precarious grip on the accepted norms of my role in the real. My vision was filled with an expanse of white so even it bordered on the divine, and what wasn't white was deep blue slipping to yellow. I could only hear my own breathing, but because that was all I could feel as well my senses were starting to get a little bit mixed, like I had synaesthesia. Sky and earth were not concepts that sat very easily in my brain. Through practiced repetition I was comfortable with the notion that there was a reality out there, but I was not connected to it in the typical reciprocal fashion: I don't think it could affect me and I'm sure I couldn't affect it. It was nice.
I would suggest that we are married to our realities- an arranged marriage at that. We may share a passionate love with our partner and spend every day in joy; through zen buddhism or alcoholism we may seek a divorce; We may never learn to understand one another. I find that a few moments absence allows the heart to grow fonder. I liked slipping away from my earth so precisely because of the joyful reunion. I felt very real when I stood on top of a mountain.
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*whistles*
I would suggest that we are married to our realities- an arranged marriage at that.
Great stuff. :-) I would have to agree about the marriage to reality...but not the arranged marriages. I think we create our own realities...even when (perhaps especially when) that creation may be in stark contrast to the realities those around us see us married to...whether created unto heaven or created unto hell :-)