I believe that the reality I have is not a complete reality, but is a similar reality to what you experience; it is a sub-reality, or an accident of the essence of reality. I believe that I was born in – place, in – time, but I also experienced what it feels like to grow, to eat, to sense, to have feelings, to communicate, to make friends, to have enemies, to make choices, and have choices made for me or against me.
Have you ever looked deep into the fabric of your shirt and seen the pattern of the woven cloth? Or looked to the sky and tried to comprehend its vastness or limit? Me too.
There are as many sub-realities as there is diversity in the weave of a piece of cloth or as there is diversity in space; and that whether I think outwardly or think inwardly, the final reality or first reality eludes me, and is not comprehensible to me; just like Victor Hugo once described the invisible becoming visible- like letting light through a window and revealing the dust floating in the air. Knowledge on anything is too much effort if it is to only serve me in my current reality, and yet there is always more knowledge unknown than knowledge that is known; and so I resign to repeat to myself as St. Anselm’s Proslogion reads, “Greater than that which nothing greater can be thought,” and that is what I believe is the final or first reality in what this thing called existence is all about.
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