Kopfkino

It’s always the eyes. It’s always the ‘I.’ These two seeds are the root of most of our problems! But what if we were empowered to change this? What if we turned our gaze inward and reflected on the ‘I’ that shapes reality? Introspection is not a burden but a powerful path to understanding, empowering us to control our narratives.

A sunny spring morning, lukewarm sunlight, and the young green leaves of trees may not have enough zeal to cheer the slumbering ‘I.’ When we immure ourselves by not seeing the world around us as it is but instead through preconceived or influenced ideas stored in the mind, we limit our perception of reality. The brain intertwines the actual images and our interpretations of those images, making it impossible to distinguish between them. Yet their dwellings are of different dimensions in the same enclosure as the brain. That’s why white with minor tweaks in lighting appears gray in the mind; the center dot inside a circle becomes a mere speck, though it is the core of the circle’s existence—one without the other does not exist. This interconnectedness of perception and reality is not just a fascinating aspect of our existence. It’s a profound revelation that can enlighten us and make us more aware of the world.

The capacity to engage in arguments forces the “I” to become increasingly isolated within its own boundaries. It’s never easy to clear the old swamp of ideas, views, notions, and assertions, regardless of the situation! Research on eye function unveils the fallibility of seeing: Seven vibrant colors mix together without prejudice to create white light. So, the color white is an illusion. Depending on the investigator’s intentions, light can manifest structurally as ripples or tiny particles. The choice, yes, the wish, the desire determines where ‘I’ would arrive after all—to meet the waves or the little bits: the photon of immortal light. Both characteristics of light rays are valid; however, we often need to force ourselves to recognize them. Here you have it: Choice always determines our understanding and perception. Should we then allow ourselves to be wrong and accept our mistakes in order to become generous—to this moment, ourselves, and our inhabitants?

This moment we inhabit will melt into an emptiness where the past, present, or future have no account. Every living soul on the planet tastes this ending—often suddenly. The rights we think we have over our past are nothing but choosing to carry along a satchel. We can only delicately nurse the wounds in our memories; they do not heal. Only a small amount of rhythm remains in our hearts, a fixed quantity—not the vast expanse of span necessary to create life, to be “Udar” before it too fades. Change is not just inevitable; it’s a constant in our lives, and accepting this is the first step toward being at peace with this moment, ourselves, and our inhabitants.