Renditions of Reality

I’m lying on the floor. As I listen to the wisdom of another, I see the carpet in a different light. Row upon row of entangled fibres. The intricate pattern I see is a fabrication of my mind; an interpretation based on the range of my senses. Elaborate, yet simplistic.

Matter is mostly empty, and the rest is not a material thing. The universe contains information. It is experience which contains solid objects, colours and textures.

The thought occurs that this is all generated by me. But I recognise it is a half-truth. This me is just one point of view in a boundless sea of information. And if a current in this sea can be aware, what does that say about the sea itself?

A few minutes later, I notice a tiny spider, still and perhaps dead. I prod the area in its vicinity and it moves. I’m about to end its existence, but something stops me. Doesn’t it deserve to live?

I carry it to the backyard and let it go. If it were bigger or more threatening I would probably have acted differently. But there is a loosening of my usual self in these last few moments. The wind blows against my skin, the trees rustle. They draw my gaze and carry it to the sky. My private rendition of reality overlapping with others.

I’m back in the room. A trick of light draws two shadows of my finger at slightly different angles. As I move the shadows dance in their separate ways. Two different perspectives of the same phenomenon. Perhaps it is the same with apparently distinct minds.

 

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