False Construction of Reality

The act of lying requires no thought. It is when the deceit (most of the time eventually) requires action that intricacies must develop. When we inflict a lie upon ourselves, we are subjecting the psyche to the possibility of madness. The lie injects itself thoughtlessly in a single moment and, for some individuals, as time goes on, the deception transforms itself into a puzzle which must be analyzed. The possibility of psychosis emerges when, suddenly, one begins to believe in his own crisis. Self-inflicting arguments break out which cause the cancer to flourish and, in some cases, become an entity separate from the psyche.

There is the theory of solipsism. The idea that one is the single true soul of reality and that all which surrounds one, all things in existence, are merely fantasy. The psychotic mind may very well believe this. I face at this moment the possibility that I may not be sitting at my desk and am instead seated within a sanitarium, staring at a wall and believing only that I am surrounded by these walls, my precious books, and the belongings I have accumulated over the years. Then I think of the recent scientific theory that existence is a mere hologram. Upon death, would I waken and find that the entirety of my existence was fabrication or that I would encounter some of the souls I have come across in my years wakening as well? Was, in birth, the lie told without consideration: “You exist” and from that point, after some few years of “buildup” we begin to weave these intricacies? Do we create a parental unit? Do we create the idea of paying taxes or living only a brief epoch? Such questions are what lead me to believe that “none of this” is a lie. Why, if I am a being capable of crafting any destiny of my choosing, would I build a life of poverty? Surely I would have placed myself in some form of royalty. Surely a homeless man would not have crafted something remotely similar to his lot. Or do we have no control over the hologram? Scientists crafting this theory must think at some length their odd consideration.

To believe life is illusion is to believe life has no purpose outside of a test of our imagination’s capabilities. I believe the only “viable hypothesis to explain the meaning of life” is one each individual is set to consider with a system of discovery. It is the individual’s purpose to determine life’s purpose for him or herself. But crafting an existence purely through the imagination seems an impossibility. Though dreams are intricate, we each contain within our minds the ability to control the vision. I am speaking of “lucid dreaming.” In this, we realize what we see, feel, taste, etc. is merely fantasy and are therefore able to craft the dream into something of our choosing. This does not occur in existence. We cannot rehearse what others are going to say to us in any given conversation. Their responses each are unpredictable for the most part. At some periods, through analysis of human behavior, we ARE capable of predicting what others are going to say, but this is merely through an understanding of certain situations which call for such a natural response. We may predict that someone we take a fancy to will say “I have plans” to an invitation. We may predict an argument coming to the surface when we behave in a certain manner and may predict perfectly some of the words which will be used. We may even predict what song will come onto the radio. This does not mean we are weaving our reality, for these occurrences are rarities among rarities. The only means by which to have the capability of knowing another’s thoughts is generally found in twins and long-married couples. But I will leave SOME room for the possibility of psychic ability. It occurs to me now that, several times, when a celebrity has died or will soon announce some heartbreaking bit of news, I tend to think for some period of that celebrity for some moments the day before the event. My first encounter with this was with George Carlin’s unfortunate demise. It occurred again last year with Robin Williams and I recall having the thought, “Jon Stewart will never retire” twenty-four hours before the announcement was made on the internet. I do not believe these are predictions but will allow some room for the possibility of an omen. Some people are capable of knowing when a certain crisis soon will arise but it is, as I have before stated, my personal belief that these events are rarities among rarities. Some men believe the apocalypse is nigh, but it never comes. Some men believe the symptoms their body presents is an indication of approaching doom but it is generally all psychosomatic. Some waken every day believing, “This is the day the terrorists will attack” but there is no attack that day. When, in the rare occasions when something we believe to have predicted occurs, even if we have predicted it for a long period without even a trace of the event’s fruition, we tend to think we are psychic when in fact it is probable we experience mere coincidence. As I stated, I at some points have thought of a celebrity before his death, but years have been spaced between these “predictions.” Ninety-nine percent of the celebrities I enjoy who have died have come as a shock. At this moment, I am thinking of Clint Eastwood, but believe there is no chance that he has died today or will die tomorrow.

But to return to a subject I brushed upon a moment before. If my existence is a fabrication of my mind, I suspect a state of mental decay. I would have created diseases, I would have created homicide; I would have created Adolf Hitler. I would have crafted my own homosexuality and the overwhelming attitude placed towards this for the sake of subjecting myself to hate and discrimination. I would have created religious principles which threaten the sciences. Why would I do all of this? The answer is simple: I would be a psychopath. Or the scientists who have crafted my hologram would have wished for me to know the difference between aspects of joy and aspects of displeasure. In my life, I have encountered far more of the latter which leads me to believe the scientists are as cruel to me as they are to a lab rat. But to believe life is a hologram, I feel, is similar to laying faith in the idea that characters in a novel or a video game are in fact conscious beings and wonder what they are doing when the game is shut off or the pages are closed, which would be a madman’s philosophy. And to believe life is an intricate lie is to be feeding myself more than occasional notions of worthlessness and stupidity and to create the principles of nicotine addiction and continuous failure in my literary endeavors, which is depression. To craft one’s own misery when the imagination is (if life is illusion) capable of crafting me into the situation of royalty (as I have said) would be a fool’s practice and upon my death (and why would I create this as well?), when the truth “hit home” I would realize I had wasted the opportunity of crafting something of greater intricacy and pleasure.    

But I cannot know for sure if life is a lie or a hologram. There is no way to know while one is alive. Each comment I laid down above could (and possibly ought to be) believed to be mere rambling. There is the old idea that “death is only the beginning.” But I am not prepared to test such a hypothesis.