I want to be…
There is a simplicity to existence that conscious ego will not tolerate. Your existence just is. It is not planned nor intended. You are, simply as you are. The most basic truth is so clearly in front of your face– base and predictable: human, primate, mammal, life– the truth bores as it insults ego. Delusions are so much more interesting– God, soul, love– they are real in effect of our every action, but they are as malleable as any childish whim. We shape these delusions with every want and expectation. Try it. Expect love and find it. Want God and see! The filters of perception are yours to control– we are masters to this shared delusion we often confuse with reality.
These are simply ideals, and we breathe them as necessary as air. What a curious primate.
Unfiltered reality– what does that mean? Is it even possible? We sometimes speak of it as beautiful, seeing things as they truly are– but is not that beauty another delusion, another filter? Unfiltered reality, I imagine, would be too boring and too simple to comprehend. It would be data with no metaphor, no symbol system, and none of the artful abstractions that we thrive on.
So then, curious primate, what is it that you want? Anything that you consider worth comprehending is possible; but still you persist in wondering about this most basic thing. Do what you like, and let none be the judge, you cannot help to do otherwise.
We are masters to our own delusion. Do what you want and shape every filter. Let life happen. Make art, love, and offer people a reason for their existence to matter.
It is all poetry and art, and all blissfully useless.
Do you ever wonder if that reflection looks back?
Fragments of who you are, multiple selves throughout
every facet of your life– your past, present, and
all possible futures
At some point, as perceptions collapse and reality
is seen as illusion– you are whole
The sum of your knowledge– all of you
In that moment, everything is as you have made it
And you, the whole of who you are, are responsible
Where you go from here…
That is the better question
We assume form, and blindness to
the miraculous moment of every beat
And like waking up
Every form a dream– the things
We thoughts we were, thought were important
Fade away in a flash of awareness
The presence is felt, the emotions flow
It is a simple timing, a rhythm to follow
And everything is seen
As it truly exists