What is truth? What do we hope to achieve by this self conceived concept of truth? Is it any more real than you and I? And what are we? Are we illusions? Dreams perceived as real? Within this ether of existence in which our lives permeate, via this temporal event known as the human mind what can be said to be real? What can be said to be truth? What are we to gain by seeking truth? Does truth validate our existence? If truth is a subjective experience then can there be a universal truth? As creatures of discernment and beings of logic is it not our duty to question our existence?
We are instilled within us a sense of morality, a sense as palpable and intimate as the human touch. By this nature mustn’t we seek truth if only to justify our will? As I see it, truth is the undeniable reality in which we live in. Through the shimmer and illusion of light, through the gaze of subjective thought, through the phenomenon known as senses, there is a reality. Though our reality is merely a perceivable dream, feed by muscles and nerves and electrical impulses.
Our perception of reality is no more real than a dream. It is a dream. A real, vivid, lucid dream that we all experience together. People exist outside of you but our awareness of them is merely ideas and associations held in this elusive passing event known as the mind. The mind is a place we feel safe to say truly does exist. But is the mind us or are we the mind? What is the true reality of our mind? Of us? Of our existence?
I feel true reality is simply out of our reach. It exists outside of us, in a realm in which we only have the most subtle sense of. The reality of existence is so vast and so enormous we are merely atoms within in. It is so perpetual and perceivably infinite we only occupy a flash of its duration. What is considered to be real, that is matter, is so overwhelmingly overshadowed by non-matter it makes us question our concepts of what is real. Our relationship with matter is a matter of attraction. We exist on a spherical globe surrounded by a cold, life-less vacuum incapable of maintaining life yet some how life maintains. It is paradoxical. For existence exists within non-existence. Matter within non-matter. Inside of us we are comprised of spheres of probability which are, in itself, comprised of a vacuum filled with non-existence. At first glance, these spheres seem inanimate, life-less— but it is full of life. They pop in and out of existence with no rhyme or reason and much to the dismay of scientist and contrary to all known Newtonian physics. In this orderly chaos we are but probability and chance. Then if we are made up of non-existence resting on perceivable existence floating in endless non-existence then what is real? What is truth?
I attest to these matters of existence. To these matters of truth. In seeking truth we must accept reality. But since our reality is an illusion of the mind then we are not reality. So therefore I conclude there is but one answer regarding truth.
What Is Truth?
Truth is Reality,
Yet Reality Eludes Us.