My biggest fear is that the bald kid from the Matrix was right all along; that there is no spoon, in fact there never was a spoon. Of course, this begs the obvious question: Why is my cupboard full of tins of soup (tomato just in case you were wondering. Just like the questionable existence of the spoon, there is no other flavour of soup).
So, given that my kitchen cupboards are straining with tins of soup does that mean that mine is a life wasted if tinned soup is all consuming and a central part of my existence. No, because I see spoons. I also see straws, the latter being no substitute for the thick end of some Sheffield steel between my fingers. Anyway, you’ll be reading soon enough in the mainstream media about the demonization of all straws which may yank your sensibilities right back to questioning that spoon and consequently all of reality.
But this is not about the fate of my soup or the absence of the proper means by which to shovel it into human beings. Okay bear with me a little as I attempt to shake off this rather innocuous metaphor I seem to have conjoined myself.
For those of you, and I believe there are many and in ever increasing numbers who haven’t followed the adventures of Neo and his cutlery conundrum in the Matrix film trilogy we are presented with a truth by our smooth headed golden child, of a possibility that reality isn’t fixed and is interchangeable and indeed created by the individual, bestowing upon us all an instant god identity (wow that was deep and quite a stretch from my pregnant kitchen cupboards).
But I understand it. In fact, it is the only part of the Matrix films I do understand. I’m comforted by the fact that nobody understands The Matrix. To understand The Matrix is to be the Alpha & Omega of the gardening world who casually tosses a seed into the promised land, not caring a jot that it would eventually bare the tree of the knowledge of good and bad.
This idea of a created reality seems to be popular these days, popping up in Sci-Fi flicks and anything where Will Smith or Jim Carey appear. I must admit I’m very comfortable with the notion of created reality, having wrestled free of organised religion and the equally dogmatic Atheism soaked ‘Sciencey’ proselytizing fellows, locked in their reality cages being forced to observe for all of time. Phew! That felt good.
I recently had the pleasure of talking to some religious folks on my doorstep (yes, those religious folks, of whom, incidentally I used to be one). The pleasure I speak of was seeing first-hand the conviction of belief washing through them as we discussed the state of a world consumed, it seemed by a rampaging devil. Now I might not agree with the content of their jib as it were but the joy with which they earnestly spoke was mesmerising and infectious. And that’s how it should be.
A belief is a thought that we keep thinking and a created reality is a product of those thoughts. Some of the greatest figures in history, namely, Jesus Christ, Mahatma Gandhi, Elmer Fudd and Michael Jackson (some of whom may never have existed) all encapsulated the spirit of creation. It’s a phrase that is so overused these days that it is in danger of becoming a cliché.
“Be the change you want to see in the world…waskerwy wabbit.” (paraphrase)
I seem content these days to exist within the sweet spot of not being told what to believe and going out of my way to make someone else wrong with empirical and /or anecdotical evidence just, so they can think like me. Now that’s a horrible thought.
Get your own spoon but do tell me about yours and demonstrate in any way you can why it is important to you.
I’ll probably fall in love with you and name you as one of those decent human beings, unless of course you plan to take over the world and, in the process, steal my spoon.
That dear reader is not acceptable.
Paul.
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Paul Frith 