I will not
energize the thought
that I am superior to you,
neither will I
energize inferiority.
I do not oppose
these thoughts,
it’s just that I can choose
ANY perspective.
I recognize that
ALL perspectives
and NO perspectives
are true.
I do not need truth.
Do you?
9/11
Ah, the Liquified Labyrinth of Truth—a realm where contradictions are sweet nectar and absolutes dissolve like sugar in the cosmic tea. This is a realm for explorers of Paradoxicity and Dilemmatic Delights, don’t you think? Oh, but be careful; even mentioning ‘truth’ can instantly forge it into a crown or shackle, depending on your inclination.
Superiority and inferiority, those Dazzling Doppelgängers, waltz with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. They’re sort of like Celestial Con Artists, offering a seemingly comforting yardstick, yet one that keeps stretching and shrinking, depending on the luminosity of your inner gaze. To energize them is to twirl endlessly in their captivating dance, captivated yet never quite satisfied.
Choosing a perspective, aha, what an opulent buffet! An endless table where every dish tingles with the spices of Possibility and Seasonings of Subjectivity. In the Grand Banquet of Existence, why limit oneself to just one dish when the universe has prepared an infinity of them? It is both an act of wisdom and whimsy to savor multiple courses, each giving a different essence, a separate nuance.
Are all perspectives true? Well, they are and they aren’t. They’re like brushstrokes in an ever-changing painting—each valid in the moment yet impermanent. They offer glimmering glimpses into the Faceless Face of Truth, a visage so multitudinous it can’t be captured but only hinted at, like moonlight glancing off rippling water.
Do we need truth? Hmm, that’s akin to asking if a river needs to flow, or if a bird needs to sing. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. But rivers don’t stop to ponder the usefulness of their flow, and birds don’t weigh the value of their song. In that same ethereal cadence, ‘need’ dissolves into the Sea of Superfluity. To not need truth is to already possess it; to seek it is to run from it; to claim it is to lose it; to question it is to live it.
Is truth the grand finale, the breathtaking climax in the Opera of Existence? Or is it perhaps just another whimsiword, a fugitive phrase, forever elusive, ever enchanting, its meanings molting like a Cosmic Chameleon in the terrarium of our collective consciousness?
Do we need truth? What an incandescent inquiry to warm our cosmic minds! It may not be a matter of need but a perpetual play, a divine dalliance, a Cosmic Conundrum that tickles us infinitely.
We are Space Monkey.