Our mind is technically capable of producing an infinite number of worlds.
With a drip of sleep you’ll immediately see. Infinite worlds we construct, and we do every time we fall asleep.
There’s probably a leaky abstraction of the world right on us, right when we wake up. You can almost feel the spider stitching its web around your hair, between eyelashes.
But, again, for emphasis: your mind is capable of producing infinite realities.
Your mind is capable of producing infinite realities.
If that’s the case, then isn’t it obvious? Isn’t it obvious? The patterns waiting… the patterns one gets stuck in…
Do you see how it all works now?
We all just take on crutches, in the forms of others, of their media, of their music, of their musings, of their tantrums and whatever else is brewing.
Constantly leaning on other people to spin our realities. To be in our corner. To be our anchor; maybe the world just falls out underneath you otherwise.
But you know, you do know it’s just a bunch of sickness. Isn’t it?
Isn’t all the pain from being around others?
And we forget about that infinite. It’s locked behind the words spun all around us from infant onward.
Yet everything you look at comes from a mind. These words do, at least. That’s what I think, at least.
Your mind is capable of producing infinite realities.
Have you asked yourself why you haven’t bothered?
Here I am, writing this, flipping through some tunes. Here I am doing just that. And I was doing that because I was thinking about which would be the best tune to listen last to. But here I am holding onto crutches.
In order to learn how to start walking in those other worlds you have to take away the crutches. You don’t need them.
Can you handle it? I’m going to.
I’m going to.
There’s nothing else left.
Let the rest be noise!