Reality

With a simple pair of lens, the entire world can seem entirely different. What could once be seen as a foggy mist above mountains can instead be seen as a crispy clear sky in a distant landscape. Holding the pair of lens in my hands, I can actively choose whether or not I want a blurry world or a focused world--but why should this be a dichotomy? Why cannot I see the world as I see it, or perhaps as I wish to see it? Am I supposed to be aware that I have lens to see clearly with? What if I don't-- shall I just roam the world, blindly, or rather, blurriedly?

These lens pave a path for us to elude somewhere else, but at the same time we are handicapped to walk along this pavement since we are completely disoriented on what is real and what is not. Constantly, it is a struggle to decipher truth among deception. But, is this not assuming that deception is the reality? That we must question all that is unreal in order to distinguish what truly is real? What is reality?


In a generation when technology and the media have bombarded the imagination with a plethora of unreal images, fantastical lands, and mythological creatures, it has become possible to merge the unreal with the real. It seems, however, that the fatal mistake being made is the life lived in an illusion of what is unreal. We assign value to unreal things, we analyze actions that have not been made, we conclude judgments on the what-ifs. We create alternate universes among our own. But who is to say that we do, in fact, live in a single universe? Perhaps we occupy two or three simultaneously. Ever heard of deja vu?

In addition to the lengths of greatness occupied by a universe, there is the internal universe, our own reality that suggests itself to be uniquely formed. It is a reality best understood exponentially. First, there is the reality of a fly on a wall. Once the fly occupies space, it is connecting to the universe of whatever space, or mass, it is surrounding. Therefore, its occupied space multiplies by itself. Imagine the fly, on a leaf. Then, adding another power, some rain drops fall onto the leaf. Now, it is the rain, on a leaf, near the fly. Third power. With each increment of increasing power, it can be observed that the fly has encountered a greater reality-space than that with which it originated. Therefore, it can be said, that the fly is in its own world. And when it interferes with other worlds, its world becomes larger and larger.

The same can be said of humans. We have our own realities, we are in our own worlds--both as a mass, and then as individuals. Beyond the disciplines of an individual, there are his mental worlds. With every new interaction, the mental realm of a person enters a new imagination of possibilities. New fantasies, new realities. All are formed. And, with each merging of realities, a set of reality absorptions occur, so that one person is no longer wholly himself, but rather, a collection of others' remains, others' realities. For example, if I lived in my own bubble and never knew who President Obama was, I would never be able to imagine the realities and fantasies of America. I would be limited to just my own world's perceptions.

We create cultures as if they were worlds. Aside from the obvious--travelling--as being the only act to induce the clashing of cultures, it can be noted that cultures can be born in any setting. Within a room, a culture is created between roommates. In a class, between classmates. In a prison, among inmates. In the wilderness, among nature. With each consequent environment is a culture, and with each culture demands a reality.

Our realities are numerous, and we form realities with our environment as well as with our people. We create a culture within friendships, yet a different culture with relationships, and yet another culture with formal interactions. We pass the boundaries of one world, of one culture to the next, with a simple handshake. Or with a simple change of clothes.

But how do we determine a shared culture, a shared world, a shared reality? A single reality. A universal truth, something that can be accepted regardless of who we have interacted with, what we have been exposed to, or where we have been? Indeed, globalization has risen out of these questions and has ultimately molded the world into a single thread, where the spool acts as an axis as the thread spins around with singular ideas, uniform environments, and universal cultures repetitively.

Our realities have become so interconnected. To pull a chunk out of mine and consider it a collective sample of the whole would be a fallacy. And to consider it as a single, original piece of my own reality would be impossible, since I have developed many interactions and have interfered with too many a reality. But there still remain realities to be discovered. My exponential connection with different environments needs to increase. And with this, I end with a quote from a wise man:

When you are on land, you turn and only see what is around you.
Climb on the mountain to seek the truth, for at the top, you see what is unseen.

Relativity & Definity: Like Oil to Water?

Doesn't it seem like the world is against you when you rush to the train terminal and the doors JUST closed? The time board shows a slow countdown of seconds, one by one, to the deadline of the train's departure...but couldn't the train just wait for just one more second? And the world seems to have the timing just right when you are in the mood to eat popcorn at your next movie screening, but for some odd reason the machine is "broken" today...How about all of those times when you were on the brink of an A- with an 89.5 but the teacher wouldn't round up? When you arrived late to work by just ONE minute...but it was the third time this week?

Relativity or not? When I eat out with  a friend but I don't have enough change and she covers for me, even though I will pay her back later..and when I do, I'm a couple of cents short. My personal philosophy on this matter is simply that it all smooths out at the end.

For all of those moments in which definity is called upon, relativity scoops-in a place for itself. I wonder how it is possible to measure time, money, and all other definite things--when, on so many occassions, it is hard to formulaically carve out the right portions. Are there really 100 calories in every 100-calorie pack oreo snack? And, every time there is breaking news, doesn't the network have to re-assign the stories it had planned to air? How much of uncertainty can we predict? And how does it feel to expect uncertainty, to measure it, and realize that it occurred without you knowing? Albert Einstein once said, "Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."

Relativity in art occurs just as equally as relativity in science, despite the fact that scientific endeavors require precision. Are there not intervals in which polls decide PLUS or MINUS the standard deviation? Are there not endless solutions to calculus equations involving ∞?  Therefore, could it not be argued that a certain "pinch" of relativity is required in the formula of definity?

It is my impression that we are in a constant struggle to acheive every grain of measurement SO precisely so that the hourglass of definity is the same, after every twist up-side down and down-side up, each passing of sand reflects the same hour as the last. But what happens when our attachment to definity becomes dependency? If we are relying on the definite hourglass to say as it should, are we not permitting the allowance of relativity? Why has it become so unacceptable to have an extra grain of sand? Will we not need that extra grain..in case one of the others gets stuck within the crease of the wood?

Dear Death, Please Knock Before Entering.

Day after day you wake up. You mindlessly follow the daily routine of brushing your teeth and washing your face. Yeah- life tells you to stop and look at the roses, but even when you do, it can only be for a few seconds. What's the point in even taking the time out of your day to "appreciate" these wonders of nature and wonders of life if you can't ever seem to find time to pay respects to them? To acknowledge that lives, other than your own, occur daily around you--from the bees making honey to the skies shifting winds.

In our culture of hustle-bustle-ism, it becomes second nature to simply overlook the scenery...I get it. And in no way do I ask you to stop what you are doing just so that you appreciate the birds humming around you. Quite the contrary- I wish you and I became more aware of the unconscious, repetitive daily routines that we so mindlessly execute. Because it is these mindless executions--I think--are what entrap us in a cycle of repetition. We choose to exclude variety in our lives. We choose to do the same thing over and over again, because we never realize that we might die some time. And if we realized that death were ever so close to us, we may behave differently.

Case in point: On our way to school or work, we grab our wallet and keys. Did you ever look at your wallet and notice the expiration date? I did. You know what I thought? If I knew I was going to die a week from now, would I have to let the DMV know? How often do we get so close to death that our minds--the only thoughts preoccupying our minds--revolve around death?

Case in point: We drive the car and instinctively turn on the radio. I saw an ad for AT&T about losing a precious moment. If I once sat in a car and listened to the radio right away, I could have missed the sounds of a fire horn coming nearer to me within milliseconds. Or I could have been busy flipping a radio channel instead of rolling down the windows and simply listening to the sounds of the city--the people walking and the cars flowing.

Case in point: We grab a bag of chips before sitting down to watch tv. If I had a penny for every chip I ate in front of a screen, I think I would be the next Warren Buffet. But in reality, if I get a chunk of cholesterol for every chip I eat, I get heart disease. So if I knew that the next bag of chips I opened would lead to heart disease, would I do it?

Basically, we live in a world where it is impossible to carpe diem "seize the moment". But what happens when we stop realizing there are moments to be seized? For example, after routinistic patterns of eating unhealthy foods, people become obese. A recent Jamie Oliver discovery on the Oprah show proved one point: when an obese person dies, do you know how the funeral goes? First, they must get an extra-extra large casket that is double the size of a normal one. In carrying the casket (which can only fit through some double doors), the family is not able to give the body any dignity. Even while dead, the person is being humiliated. Ever seen the film What's Eating Gilbert Grape? It's about a mom who was so morbidly obese that she quit going outside in years, and eventually died on her bed. So does anyone ever think about the specifics of dying? Will we, too, lead our bodies to become machines and then die mindlessly?

Death comes suddenly, too, and can wipe out en masse--it has done so in the recent tragedies of Haiti and Pakistan. Does anyone ever look at the clouds, day by day, and think: one day it is these very clouds that might strike me?

If death can so easily invite itself to our lives, then what--exactly--defines or proves our existence? Do we prove that we exist by driving all day, getting stuck in traffic, and going home then watching tv? Or do we prove our existence by planting seed after seed and sowing the crops? How do we define ourselves when it comes time to place a tombstone over our dead bodies? "Amelia Noor- mother, wife, and daughter?" Is that a definition?

Life is an endless acre of corn fields. Each row represents a week, and each stalk is a day, and each kernel a minute. When you drive past the corn fields, they all look the same. Each one is a repetition of the last. There are a few rotten stalks, and several dead kernels. But when you drive past so fast, it's hard to focus on them, hard to notice them, because all the life surrounds them and engulfs them. You keep driving and driving past the acres of corn fields, but you never think--could the next acre be the last one I drive past?