The Fabric of Reality

Reality, what is it really? We take the fibers of the facts as we know them, and twist them together to create the threads of consciousness. We arrange those threads in neat rows and weave them with the columns of our intuitive feelings of what seems to hold them together in the tightest strongest fabric we can conceive, to make what we call reality.

From that fabric of reality, we cut patterns and fasten them together, sew them up with the threads of our beliefs and that which we have been taught. And we cover ourselves with the clothes we have wrought. We wrap ourselves and hide those parts that we do not wish to reveal to the world. We make every attempt to make those clothes fit, even to the point of changing ourselves sometimes. We try to make reality fit.

Sometimes we find that there are sharp things in the world, sharp things that can cause snags, sharp things that can render our reality. Sometimes those are things we ourselves did not know were a part of ourselves, like broken fingernails. Sometimes those things are parts of others close to us, sometimes they are merely part of the universe. Where this sharpness comes from, it doesn't really matter, it serves a greater purpose. That purpose is to start the recycling of the constitutent materials we hold dear, we hold close to ourselves. Even the ideas can be recycled. Too often they are.

Its interesting when we look closely at that fabric, its consistency, its sheen, its softness, its strength, its color. There are many weaves, many fabrics, silks, denims, herring bones, satins, velours, chambreys, so many only a textile expert would know them. But when we start looking close enough, we find that there are things woven in we weren't aware of, the threads are sometimes imperfect, sometimes artificially perfect, never are they actually straight though. Sometimes they even can be crossed with their neighbors, sometime lending great strength to the fabric, sometimes weakening it. Some fabrics breathe quite well, while others can stifle like a plastic bag. Some shed water well, while others are for the express purpose of soaking it up, while still others shouldn't be cleaned in water.

We find that the threads, the very fibers are changed when we are done with our raiment. We all seem to have that piece of clothing that we do not wish to discard, for it has fit and worn well. Perhaps because it softened, it may have stretched in the right way to make us move as we feel comfortable, it may merely just make us look good. Eventually, it always comes down to discard it or put it away, hoping to wear it again someday. Sometimes it just evokes pleasant memories, perhaps of loved ones. But it would seem, it must always be replaced. Those fibers are made up of other smaller constituent materials, ones we never think of, which themselves are made of still smaller more elementary parts and particles. Its intriguing to think about string theory that scientists have about our reality. That the particles could be part of a string poking into our dimension, perhaps tying multiple particles together without regard to time or space.

That we might be actually tied together one mind to another, one heart to another, should give us reason to pause in our actions. Harming one tied to someone we love through some invisible bond, might in some way color or influence the very ones we seek to protect. Could karma be a scientific reality?

What it boils down to is, we make our own reality and wrap ourselves in it as we see fit. Whether or not it is the same reality as that of our neighbor, is truly unlikely. And in reality, our personal realities wear out and we change them. Really.