On the back of some of the charming stories I read in the news each day, I sometimes shudder that this could be the reality I find myself in. I wonder what purpose all the bad stuff serves. From a completely removed perspective, I suppose it’s all just inconsequential stuff, and we only make it dramatic or personal because we’re on the inside, and have to pick a side, or at least we feel the pain of it to some degree.
In trying to make sense of it all, just occasionally I have this crazy thought that maybe I am in a kind of purgatory: a self-constructing virtual reality whose contents are dictated by the state of my heart and mind. This would jive with(see next blog post if you want a good laugh) some things I’ve heard in buddhism, or at least the boil-in-the-bag version I’ve been a party to anyway.
Were that the case, then maybe the good things in this world are reflections of my good aspects, where there is joy and balance. Conversely, maybe the ugly aspects of this world are the imbalanced aspects of myself – transmogrified into monsters within this reality until I take measures to resolve them.
Perhaps if I started to resolve my problems, the repugnant aspects of this world would start to disappear one by one. Yet I’d be blissfully unaware of that relationship, as a test is only a true test if you don’t know it’s a test at all.
Like smelling your own farts and solipsism(“Whoa – am I in The Truman Show?”), it’s probably one of those things you are convinced is unique to you. Then someone else mentions it and you realise how prone human beings are to clever ideas about all of this being … well, just about anything but all of this.
I don’t smell my own farts by the way.
I don’t even fart.
I don’t possess a bottom actually.
Damn, I took it too far.