“In a decaying society, art, if it is truthful, must also reflect decay.”
– Ernst Fischer
There is an uneasy weight to pretending. Moving about, carrying on while under the surface there are cracks in the veneer. A hypnic snap back into reality, and one can easily become confused, devastated, withdrawn, even outraged.
An accepted illusion; we are all a part of a brilliant, beautiful, tragic, and violent menagerie set in motion together. In the midst of all the day to day noise and pollution there is a unified mystery. An uncertainty that can be felt as a pulse if you stop and take a moment to engage with it. Then the uncertainty becomes curiosity, and the mystery becomes a quest for knowledge and understanding.
At times I do not feel real. I have trouble with real in the context it is often presented. I am uncertain of this concept. Most science to classify real, ultimately breaks down as magic. With every discovery there are more questions, more rewriting of realities. New ideas become accepted reality, and old ones discredited. Perspective has a lot to do with one’s reality. To be aware something is happening, but yet ignore it to maintain one’s own happiness or satisfaction, is to pretend. The more we pretend, the further we cast ourselves from a unified reality and closer to imminent decay.
