With each fleeting moment, I am confronted by what is, and what isn’t. This is seemingly a colloquial thought, one might argue that the things we see and feel are meant to be and that’s it. If we allow ourselves to reach beyond our psyche and tap into unprecedented knowledge, it may become more feasible that ‘what is’ stems from what exists as much as what is felt, and the interfacing harmony of it. It is the interpretation of time, space, and soul as the core of our existence. It is something that is intangible and unquestionably fleeting. It is what René Descartes summed up in five words.
There was a time that I thought being imaginative was a delirious habit. I’d stare at a blanc wall and a tumultuous mind would recreate that wall in the most alluring, pristine way and even add dimensions to it. Whether I realised it then, or not, this was a form of existing consciousness. Then along came the Ego, the imposter I assumed to be the real me, he’d coax me into believing how awful that imagination was.
Of course he’s right, it’s only a boring wall.
Except that it’s not. It’s whatever I want it to be because I could seat in the core of the soul, where distilled emptiness and silence harmonises the wall to my creative desire. In a way, it is a knowledge that redefines artistry and philosophy, including writing. Therefore, I employ us to tap into that seat of consciousness, never-mind what the Ego thinks. It isn’t real, but you are. Your mind can either establish or annihilate you, and I believe that in our own little world, we can be heroes.