I need to know whether I’m making people happy, I need to know whether this new situation is in accordance with my beliefs. I need to know whether he’s going to turn right, I need to know why she’s scowling, I need to know whether my daily bread allows me to forgive. I need to know what is real in my world. I need to know my reality.
My reality is all that I understand. I understand that which I perceive, that which I forecast based on memory and that which I emotionally feel.
The total of those parts is my reality, and my reality is everything to me.
My reality is fact, my reality is the best judgement I have on my world, my reality will determine how I think and act in the next given moment.
However, my reality is but a mere glimpse of the outside world. My reality is a partial, limited, skewed and distorted glimpse. My reality is barely the occluded narrow aperture of the most glaucomic vision, yet my reality is all I have, and I think my reality is accurate, and I think my reality is whole. I think I know, but I really know that I know little.
And you stand in front of me. And they sit around a table in front of me. And memory is now behind me, footsteps trodden are past evidence of changed realities. Present reality is now shared with you. And you are here.
And now we have to communicate. We have to share information about our individual realities in order to come up with a new understanding. We have to communicate in order to commune, so that we can create community.
Desperately, given the aim of the exercise, your reality is no more accurate than my reality. You are not bathed in a translucent circumscribed precision, but you are also rendered vague by the opaque and fuzzy reality of your reality. But these uncertain platforms are the best that we have to start our inter-communication.
And just as we start swapping inaccurate and incomplete realities we change them, both individually and together.I start off on one tract, and before I’ve sent the message I change the end of it. You receive a mixed mangled message, which then changes the message that you were about to send me, which was also already in the process of changing before you had sent it to me. You had already decided which slice of your reality you were going to return to me before you had already received my slice of reality. You wanted to talk about the Continuum of Kardashian regardless of the meteorological drain filling content which floods my reality.
You are already formulating your response to this writing before finishing reading it. You had already formulated a response when you looked at the picture above. But then your reality changed, and the work moved on a degree, and I sent a message, and your reality changed a bit more, and your pre-formulated response changed the reality of your reading experience, which in turn changed your reality which in turn changed your response to your reality. And you’re sharing this reality with me.
And on shaky platforms, hanging in the mid-air turbulence of memory and perception, and buffeted by the winds of neurological determinism we are supposed to share distorted realities in order to achieve common firm ground so that we can act together secure in the knowledge that we both enjoy our shared chicken soup.
And we are just 2 individuals who are motivated to understand and like each other, who actively want to share realities, who both give and receive positive attribution in order to find a common path. What about the billions who share no bonds of linguistic commonality, cultural hinterland, sensuous magnetism, motivated fondness nor even desirous attachment ? How are two distant individuals who start from separate platforms ever likely to find commonality in their ever-changing, inaccurate and partial realities ?
Across seas, times, cultures, languages and creed the establishment of external reality may not bring commonality. Look inside the hairless ape to understand her truth, find homo sapiens soul to know his reality, for it this that we can truly share.
My reality is inside. My reality is the solid love, the foundation of generosity, the ever present fear, the burning hatred, the simmering jealously, and the wandering lust. My reality is born of the Limbic System, it counts the Hippocampus as it’s neighbourhood, it hangs in the Amygdala and the Hypothalamus.
So, when I stand on my swinging, unstable, platform in order to communicate my fluxing reality to you I need to look inside not outside for my reality. I take time to experience my reality, I feel it, smell it, heat it, cool it, project it, displace it, kick it, play it, swallow it, and suck it. Most of all I accept it & get to know it.
Now, full of reality I’m ready to tell you all about it ! I want to commune, I want to re-create the creations of my reality, I need you to know my reality. So I press send, I switch on, I hook up, link in, integrate, and congregate (with you) in order to dissipate the my inner fate. and it feels GREAT !
Of course, you still know little of my reality, and I still know little of yours. Our platforms still sway. the message is still distorted and misinterpreted, and then I reinterpret the misinterpretation and so on. And I wasn’t really listening because I was just formulating the next bit of my inner reality to send back to you before you had even sent me your message.
But none of the inaccuracy and partiality of reality even matters in reality. So long as I do not tread on the truth of your reality, and you respect the sacred cut lawn of the green virtues of my front garden then we can get along fine. No, we can do better than get along fine, if I think that you are actually positively reinforcing my reality then I now believe that you share my reality, and vice versa. And now, finally we start to like each other, we care, we commit, we laugh, we love, we eat chicken soup.
Across space, time, oceans, culture, languages and creeds the universality of inner reality is engraved within all our hearts more authentically than verisimilitude.