"By analogy, think of earth’s horizon. The horizon is not a physical thing. It is a concept. If you tried to put some horizon in a bucket, you couldn’t do it. “Yet the horizon is observable and understandable. It seems to be physical and it seems to have form and substance. But when you run toward the horizon, no matter how fast you go, it seems to stay ahead of you by the same distance. You can never reach the horizon, no matter how fast you move."
Scott Adams
~
I don't know. I don't even know that I don't know. Here I am, twenty meters away from the dark ocean, cross-legged on the driver's seat. I know that I'm not really here. And I know that part of me is under the delusion that their story is worth telling.
[...]
Here I am, now, a few hours later, seated in the same position, except this time I'm ten meters away from a darker ocean. And a part of me is under the delusion that it has to continue where the other part left off. Maybe we can never really be whole. Maybe we can but we just don't want to because it would be boring. And maybe it's true that our minds can only generate delusions. Delusions. Delusions come and go. They come as we try to fill the gaps. And they go to leave room for upgraded versions, gap-fillers that are better at pretending that no void-stuff is leaking. But maybe, there are some things that we feel, that we feel truly. Maybe there are specs of light in this immense lie, in this rotting darkness. I don't know. I know that I don't know. But I know some things - I guess. What do you know? No, seriously, what do you know?
Sometimes I think that dreamers are far less detached from reality than those machines who are so desperately trying to feel at home here. I don't even know where I stand on that graph. Yet, I've been thinking that the more I try to be down-to-earth and 'realistic' the more delusional I become.
I don't know. Well, I know the limits. The big limits that bring all thought to its knees, there, at the bottom, where the silent absence of answers makes you suspect that you have three different shadows and all three of them are synchronously dancing at a frequency of one point six one eight kilohertz just to remind you that you're paralyzed. I don't know.
Thirty minutes ago, I saw a homeless man sleeping on a bench on the side of road with a black plastic bag hugging his head, tightly clutching his face. He probably doesn't want the streetlights to wake him up. We don't want the streetlights to wake us up either. We're all wearing some sort of avoid-the-truth plastic bag. And you can go ahead and check. You can put your hand on that space between your nose and your left cheek and if you focus well enough, you can feel it. That's exactly what you check every time you wake up in the morning, the mask that filters most of the horror, most of the dread, inside, outside and in-between.
The difference, you see, between my light and your probability is scattered in Parmenides' lost fragments.
The road is long but the sphere is pretty small. And the end is near though we haven't yet begun. The faith is strong and the thoughts, unclear. All these seasons are a single fall - and it's the one you can't outrun.
When you understand the difference between metaphorical reasoning and metaphorical resonance, the difference becomes you - and you, something borrowed, something greyish-blue.
Blessed be the Knight of Faith and his sword of genuine love.
~
"One might think this means that imaginary numbers are just a mathematical game having nothing to do with the real world. From the viewpoint of positivist philosophy, however, one cannot determine what is real. All one can do is find which mathematical models describe the universe we live in. It turns out that a mathematical model involving imaginary time predicts not only effects we have already observed but also effects we have not been able to measure yet nevertheless believe in for other reasons. So what is real and what is imaginary? Is the distinction just in our minds?"
Stephen Hawking