the story of intermind
Watched inception. Here are the ideas that were locked in my mind:
We start out like Descartes: I think therefore I am.
I am whom? Am I who I want me to be? A world focused completely on me is my own dream. Who's to tell me it's not?
I think this, and then take a step back and realize that things don't go as I want them to. This is either because: 1- I have some subconscious urge to put myself through trouble and therefore conjure it up. or 2- The world is not my dream.
My mind pays no great attention to intricate detail. There is more to anyone's spirit and personality in terms of depth than I would originally think.
The more deep into the dreamworld a life or a story is, the more confined it is, the less the detail. I corrupt the world by making it my own because my mind is extremely limited. Everything in my own dreams is simply a projection, and a lifeless bland projection. I can never meet the standard of all the intricacies of reality.
Option 2: the world is a great intermind, and all of our projections combine to make it what it is.
Although if the world were a connected dream of all people's thoughts it would be fairly extensive in detail, who is the one who thought up a series of events that no one could have expected? There is a source for all inspiration. If there is no source for an idea, where does it come from? We got ideas from what exists, and we can't think beyond what is. How could we have conjured it?
Option 3: the world is composed by the intermind of higher powers.
I think the options are increasing in relevance and possibility. If this third option is the case, we would have warring nations and ideals, as we do. The inspiration of existence could easily come from these powers. But why would these powers not completely dominate? Why would they even use the same context and world if they could invent their own?
Option 4: the world is a dream by a great author and we are his projections.
'Projections' in this sense would not be bland and lifeless, but intricate beyond what we could possibly dream. They would be beautiful reflections of the author's reality. This is what I believe we are. It is the basis of all the other options. He is the highest authority, founding the world by "Word" which is Wisdom and truth- a balance to all things. Higher powers are under him, and reign over specific realms, seeking to gain power and control like him, or working for him. Under them are the nations and groups of people. Under them are individuals who form groups seeking to gain power, and within that substratum are people themselves, warring for their own individual way. When we sleep, retreating into ourselves, our world can be horrible or beautiful, and often reflects a self-centered view. A world that we would form for ourselves is bland, and the farther away from the author of all perfect, lovely, and pragmatic detail, the more formless, void, and disgusting, our waking dreams and ambitions will be.
The more asleep one is, the more his ideas are confined in detail.
Only he could dream it all up to work perfectly in minute detail. In this world, he sees the infinite the same as he sees the infinitesimal. A thousand years are as a day and a day is as a thousand years. The universe is a grand map of synapses doing a good work. The only definition of good is what pertains to life, and this wisdom is the source of all life.
No matter how dark the details may become: wisdom writhes bleeding on a cross: the perfect plan and scroll is unstoppable, and all of the darkest hours work to most clearly shed the lifeblood light.
We start out like Descartes: I think therefore I am.
I am whom? Am I who I want me to be? A world focused completely on me is my own dream. Who's to tell me it's not?
I think this, and then take a step back and realize that things don't go as I want them to. This is either because: 1- I have some subconscious urge to put myself through trouble and therefore conjure it up. or 2- The world is not my dream.
My mind pays no great attention to intricate detail. There is more to anyone's spirit and personality in terms of depth than I would originally think.
The more deep into the dreamworld a life or a story is, the more confined it is, the less the detail. I corrupt the world by making it my own because my mind is extremely limited. Everything in my own dreams is simply a projection, and a lifeless bland projection. I can never meet the standard of all the intricacies of reality.
Option 2: the world is a great intermind, and all of our projections combine to make it what it is.
Although if the world were a connected dream of all people's thoughts it would be fairly extensive in detail, who is the one who thought up a series of events that no one could have expected? There is a source for all inspiration. If there is no source for an idea, where does it come from? We got ideas from what exists, and we can't think beyond what is. How could we have conjured it?
Option 3: the world is composed by the intermind of higher powers.
I think the options are increasing in relevance and possibility. If this third option is the case, we would have warring nations and ideals, as we do. The inspiration of existence could easily come from these powers. But why would these powers not completely dominate? Why would they even use the same context and world if they could invent their own?
Option 4: the world is a dream by a great author and we are his projections.
'Projections' in this sense would not be bland and lifeless, but intricate beyond what we could possibly dream. They would be beautiful reflections of the author's reality. This is what I believe we are. It is the basis of all the other options. He is the highest authority, founding the world by "Word" which is Wisdom and truth- a balance to all things. Higher powers are under him, and reign over specific realms, seeking to gain power and control like him, or working for him. Under them are the nations and groups of people. Under them are individuals who form groups seeking to gain power, and within that substratum are people themselves, warring for their own individual way. When we sleep, retreating into ourselves, our world can be horrible or beautiful, and often reflects a self-centered view. A world that we would form for ourselves is bland, and the farther away from the author of all perfect, lovely, and pragmatic detail, the more formless, void, and disgusting, our waking dreams and ambitions will be.
The more asleep one is, the more his ideas are confined in detail.
Only he could dream it all up to work perfectly in minute detail. In this world, he sees the infinite the same as he sees the infinitesimal. A thousand years are as a day and a day is as a thousand years. The universe is a grand map of synapses doing a good work. The only definition of good is what pertains to life, and this wisdom is the source of all life.
No matter how dark the details may become: wisdom writhes bleeding on a cross: the perfect plan and scroll is unstoppable, and all of the darkest hours work to most clearly shed the lifeblood light.
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