The possibility that the bulk of what we know could be a lie is enough reason to look within.
I've lived the last year of my life without a mirror, yet I see myself very clearly. What exactly is reality? If reality is all we see and touch, then are our most cherished dreams real? What senses are deployed when we interact with what is beyond our eyes? Can we say we've seen what we haven't seen or dreamed of what doesn't exist? If I share all I know when it's not all there is, will it be counted as a lie? Are we actually living? What if there's nothing beyond this earth?
Why do we lead our lives in pursuit of what lies beyond the earth? I've been told that there are treasures in a realm beyond our physical eyes. Treasures I will only inherit if I live a certain way Perhaps you were told the same thing or something different. With this consciousness, we may never live to the fullest here on earth. In a certain sense, it's a great way to get everyone in line. If all good lies after we pass, then what is the essence of living? On the contrary, in the absence of specific pursuits, what will we be doing on Earth? Do mirrors ever tell the whole story? They only show what others can see and most elements of the battle within. In a world ruled by algorithms, what's the way out? Our answers often seem to keep us within the purview of our masters. Who exactly are these masters? Are they creations of a mind battling the imposter we've been actively working to become? What if there's no imposter, or what if the imposter is only a gentle reminder of the core of our existence? Imagine a world where we could live forever. That's a world drenched in chaos. It gives room for both to have multiple chances. On the flip side, it means some may be perpetually stagnant. Can class stratification exist in such a world, and how long will it last?
Maybe the greatest gift is death. The very thing we fear gives us more than enough reason to live and make every day count. However, was that really the design? Sometimes it seems convenient to think that death keeps us busy. Even in death, we help the living. Perhaps our greatest contribution to life is death. I think Mother Earth understands this perfectly.
Life is an endless search. It is looking behind and beyond the mirror. The mirror is often the enemy. Showing us who we are and reminding us of our transient atoms. It reminds us of how much time we've spent and makes us guess how much time we have left. But time is an enemy only to those in haste. Time is never late; only we are. We moved from a community with sticks and stones to sky scrapers, but far apart. We've become aliens in our homes when we are all citizens of the earth. We have welcomed the idea of division, and we now teach it. The history we teach is rooted in a baised curriculum. We're now divided by colour, language, religion, food, and followers. We're slowly remodelling what the ideal should be. Despite seeing our audible flaws, we stay silent and point fingers at a crop of people with different ideologies and pronouns. We blame them when they are basically multiple versions of who we see in the mirror.
The Matrix is me, you, and everyone else. Hold on, maybe there is no matrix, and the idea of an existing matrix is to keep us bound with an image of a struggle that only exists in the confines of our mind. Perhaps the world is fueled by chaos.
The questions are endless, like the amount of time we have. If we become infinite beings, then perhaps we'll find all the answers we seek.
For now, LIVE LIFE alive—whatever that means to you.