Imagined Earth

After decades of whole-hearted dedication to the idea of a naturally formed Earth, I’ve now become an Evolved-Earth Denier. As a philosophy, an evolved-Earth is just too toxic for my tastes, I couldn’t make it work. Random chance is an anxiety inducing concept that just isn’t worth defending.

When I was growing up, the pop-philosophy of the day was the idea of a naturally formed solar system, its raw materials provided and powered by explosions. And on a particular planet, organisms survived by way of strength and struggle. I tried to believe in this concept for nearly forty years, but I’m done.

I was so sure that the world was a fierce and frightful realm teeming with danger, necessitating vigilance for survival. Yet I’ve survived for this long without much struggle — oops, I guess life isn’t so menacing after all. My super-duper survival skills are not what’s been keeping me alive this whole time.

Life is more fantasy than fact. There is no solid foundation we can find. One discovery leads to a million more questions. Our lives are a bunch of melodramatic scenes strung together. Rationality is a mirage. Logic and reason vary with each situation. Individual dreams swirl and mingle while making the spectacle we experience.

I am finally recognizing my non-organic nature. Simulation, illusion, spirit, dream — who knows what we really are. But I realize what I’m not: an organic creature crawling atop a rock hurtling around a gigantic fireball. I was not born by cosmic accident nor do I survive by caution and skill.

Of course the world isn’t some random rock that just happens to support a constant parade of people living overly dramatic lives within ornate sets as they endlessly act out recurrent plots. All this, while our consciousness serves as a dedicated audience, experiencing life from a first-person perspective. The world is for play not grim perseverance.

People have been recognizing and writing about life’s enigmatic nature forever. I had thought life’s riddle was solved by science, but that’s part of the charm: answers are always just out of reach. Even what I’m writing right now, I’ll likely not retain. After every dream, we forget, starting each day with an amnesia that allows us to repeat performances.

But I’m working on becoming a lucid liver (like a lucid dreamer, but awake). I seek to maintain an awareness of life’s dream-like nature while consciously influencing my existence. I seek to retain the wisdom I keep rediscovering, rather than forgetting it again and again. How? Why? It doesn’t matter — it’s dream logic.

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