On the Reality of Reality
The idea. The realization. That this reality. Of crookedly parked trucks. Of dripping water pipes. Of dusty lamps. Is not real. Not really real. Strikes terror into the deepest part of the human as it currently constructed. The terror one feels when one believes that they are going to die.
It has to be real, doesn’t it? For after all it exists out there. I see it with my eyes. Hear it with my ears. Touch it with my hands. Everyone else sees it as well. We couldn’t all be imagining it. Could we?
In matters such as these symbols, words, language are just surface manifestations of deeper pre-symbolic and post-symbolic realities. The wordless inner realities of which language, words, symbols are just a road sign, sun bleached, nails rusted, wind rocking.
As it is with the illusory nature of time the belief in a concrete objective material world out-there is a component a mechanism in the construction of the machine of our False Self.
The maintenance of the illusions of time and the material nature of external reality is the maintenance of the avatar and its illusory demarcations and boundaries and notions and self-conceptions.
Yet despite their illusory nature time and a reality external to us and I am this and I am that seem as hard and solid and tangible as the desk I rest my arms on as I write this to you, transmit this to you, open that portal, that gate within you.
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Though fear alone is not enough, not sufficient to make something real. Really real.
For the world that you believe to be external to you, outside of you, out there. The reality of weekend early morning silence. Cold air skin. Shimmering music. Is a virtual reality, a simulation, a construction of your brain, that exists in your head, in your mind.
Reality is mind.
What you see is mind.
What you hear is mind.
What you touch. Smell. Taste.
Is mind.
The apparently concrete objective world out there that you believe to be real, the stage set for your life and its multitudinous dramas that cause you so much joy and suffering is not real in the sense you have always thought it so.
I need to you meditate on this.
That all of this.
Is mind.
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The idea that we live in some sort of simulation, that we intuitively feel to be true, is true.
We do live in a simulation.
But not a simulation that exists in a computer, a machine, a game. But a simulation that is generated by the wetware of the human bio-robot, a simulation of reality, a virtual reality of mind.
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In an infinite universe, reality, dimension. When you believe you have reached the end, when you think you have reached the summit, when you know you have pierced the final veil, the final curtain, you may discover by grace or by destiny or accident - which are all the same thing - a new door, a new gate, a new way. That the end was really just the beginning.
For the brain, the wetware of the human bio-computer is also an illusion of biological materiality, itself a simulation, part of a virtual reality generated by another brain, if that is what it actually is.
And that brain, if that is what is actually is, is also an illusion of biological materiality, itself a simulation, part of a virtual reality generated by another brain, if that is what it actually is.
An infinite series of simulations of apparent materiality.
Without beginning.
Without end.