The universe is change; life is your perception of it.
The brain does not own any direct copies of stuff in the world. There is no library of forms and ideas against which to compare the images of perception. Information is stored in a plastic way, allowing fantastic juxtapositions and leaps of imagination. Some chaos exists out there, and the brain seems to have more flexibility than classical physics in finding the order in it.
In a way, art is a theory about the way the world looks to human beings. It’s abundantly obvious that one doesn’t know the world around us in detail.—James Gleick (1954 - )
. . .
We share our reality with a massive dichotomy of other life forms who through their own unique sensory processes have a completely different interpretation of reality than humans.
What is important is that all life uses sensory inputs and information processing to survive. It is this mechanic of life that paints the experience of reality and each life form virtualizes reality in the form of an interface to survive.
In an information driven experiential reality system the mandate of virtualization cannot be ignored as it is why we succeed in our ability to survive and exist.
. . .
Music, this complex and mysterious act, precise as algebra and vague as a dream, this art made out of mathematics and air, is simply the result of the strange properties of a little membrane. If that membrane did not exist, sound would not exist either, since in itself it is merely vibration. Would we be able to detect music without the ear? Of course not. Well, we are surrounded by things whose existence we never suspect, because we lack the organs that would reveal them to us.
—Guy de Maupassant (1850 - 1893)
. . .
These forms we seem to be are cups floating in an ocean
of living consciousness.They fill and sink without leaving an arc of bubbles or any good-bye spray. What we are is that ocean, too near to see, though we swim in it and drink it in.
Don't be a cup with a dry rim, or someone who rides all night and never knows the horse beneath his thighs, the surging that carries him along.—Rumi
cup and ocean
Mathnawi 1, 1109-16
Coleman Barks version
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