August 26, 2022
I always enjoyed going into the holodeck. ~ Jonathan Frakes
I’ll be the first to admit that my eyes start glazing over when someone asserts that everything is an illusion, including these words that I am writing, the body in which I dwell, and of course Earth itself.
Nothing is truly real except (fill in the blank). People differ on what the only “real” reality is. What these belief systems seem to have in common is that whatever I imagine to be real, isn’t, according to some higher-level, more-intelligent, more-spiritual belief system.
One term I see tossed around a lot is hologram. This world is a hologram (of what?). A copy of something else, an image of something else, that presumably is real. The closest I come to comprehending the term hologram is familiarity with the holodeck on Star Trek The Next Generation.
How much of my mental energy do I want to devote to unraveling this riddle? While I sense that it might be important, and certainly is important to those who pontificate upon the topic, it just has no resonance for me.
I figure that I am either going to live out my life, and perhaps beyond if I don’t sufficiently awaken, still trapped in this illusion, this hologram…or I can try to study and grasp what these learned esoteric authors are portraying, and thus fortified, can escape the trap of the illusion and enter into “the real.”
Or just wait for the solar flash, which is becoming my answer to everything. I feel that whatever is real and whatever is illusion will be sifted into their respective categories by that light from which nothing shall be able to hide.
A nice little fiction, perhaps. A comforting fantasy. Or I suppose I could call it my reality and embrace it. What I’m finding is that my overall attitude, and my ability to be comfortable with perceived realities, is a prime key to peacefulness.
And you know what also makes me feel peaceful? Looking out the window at the dancing tree branches, noticing a breeze ruffling the fern fronds. Feeling that breeze undulate over my legs as I sit in this chair. Hearing a dog barking in the distance. Appreciating the Spanish guitar classic, Concierto de Aranjuez, on KDB, and contemplating what to make for dinner.
I plan to enjoy my holographic eggs-over-easy, country potatoes, and buttered sourdough toast. So that my illusory hunger may be satisfied and my illusory tastebuds comforted by breakfast-for-dinner.
If this is all an illusion of some sort, I intend to shape it into the most delightful one I can manage.