Real Reality

Knives can be sharp. That's a reality, right?
Usually, it's quite an advantage when you're trying to use them. Dull knifes are good for spreading, I suppose, but unless the spreading is happening with the icing on that cake you just made me, I have no need for dull knives.
But, the cuspidated knife is not always advantageous. But it did teach me a lesson today. Most people have pricked themselves with a pin, given themselves a paper cut, and I will venture to say that, yes, a great majority of us have cut ourselves with a sharp knife.
You guessed it, my roommate cut off his thumb with a sharp knife. A very sharp knife. Okay, so he didn't cut his entire thumb off, but he sliced a juicy piece off just fine. While at work. Preparing food that you and I would probably eat.
Today's lesson, however, was not that I should be wary when judging the deliciousness of food at my favorite restaurants. No, that wasn't it. Rather, as he was showering this morning, screaming bloody murder as he cleaned it, waiting for me to come apply the dressing, I started thinking about reality. My reality, his reality, yours too.
Our reality.
Where does reality exist? I'm not trying to get existential on all of you, but I find it a valid question. I've always been fascinated by perspective, but really, perspective is just our interpretation of what's going on...our perspective is our reality. And that reality goes through our personal filter: our brain.
The pain from the knife exists solely in our mind, which tells us the pain is in our finger. When we touch something, it feels solid, even though we know 90% of it is empty space--the "solidness" is in our brain.
We talk about sunrise and sunset, even though we know the earth is not the center of our solar system -- and nobody ever thinks to correct it. Why have we not officially renamed "sunrise" to reflect the real dynamic, which is earth-turning-morning? We readily accept and live with ideas and experiences we know are false, and as a collective, we perpetuate this shared and realized ignorance.
We don't see color, we don't "see" anything at all, but rather we have sensors that perceive radiation in certain wavelengths, and our mind tells itself what that radiation pattern might look like. Our mind filters out more than it accepts.
Which begs the question...what, really, is reality? I'm talking the reality outside of our brain. Does it exist? Are we simply projections on that reality? What does it mean?
Either way, my mate's missing his thumb.



I like flying. I don't mind it at all. Honestly, I think I prefer longer flights than shorter flights, simply because to me, the long ones mean that I'm going somewhere.
This flight is long. I am definitely on my way somewhere. Exotic. Yes, that's how most would describe it, I suppose. To me, it's another destination. Another point of view. The things I have learned travelling the world are indescribable. I tried to write them down once, but I realized that to truly describe something that transcends to so many levels required a vocabulary that surpassed even my own. 
It's like describing the way magnetism works, in a way. If you don't have a vocabulary to understand and describe the mechanism, then the only way to properly apply any description to is to accept that it simply is. It simply does.
Unfortunately, I do understand that I'm incapable of describing the things I've experienced. But I've accepted that. An accurate representation of the window to my soul would be misinterpreted by most anyhow, and I understand that too! 
So many times, I've boarded with a knowledge of where this hunk of metal would transport my physical body. I've never known where my spiritual self would land, and how it would affect me, but I absolutely thirst for it. 
I have friends who travel too, you know--I don't pretend that I'm the only one on this flight. I don't know their purpose, and I don't know their intentions, but I'm glad they choose to come with me. We all know that the flight may be cramped--first class is expensive!--but we also know there is always a way off the plane. If you can even call it a way off. Parachutes are not my favorite cup of tea.
The flight attendants know that I prefer a nice rose tea, or maybe, if my stomach is particularly upset, a chamomile just to settle things. Not that it's their fault or anything, but it is mighty unfortunate when I have to settle for a ginger ale. But it has its own advantages. Oh, and no ice, thanks to you very much.
Did you know that by flying, we force our bodies to endure an insane amount of radiation? Radiation that surpasses radiation experienced during the Three Mile Island incident. No nuclear storage facility or power plant pose as much danger to our radiation-sensitive bodies than flying does. But I accept the risk. Easy cost-analysis shows me that the rewards always exceed the possible cost. 
Really, why does anybody order their drinks with ice?! It's bothering me now, and when things irk me in the air, they grind away at my patience until I land. There is no advantage to ordering a drink with ice, now, is there? In actuality, the airlines are getting away with murder. You see, ice is one of the only materials that expands upon freezing, so not only are they taking away precious fluid volume, by they are substituting it with arguably less liquid than you otherwise would have received! Shirk the ice, man!
The thing about me flying is, that I still have my own rules. I never turn off my phone, and I only use airplane mode because I'll be able to watch an extra movie because of the battery life I save. Also, no seat belts. This one is almost as absurd as the ice--almost. Trust you me that life--I mean, airplanes--are much better experienced without the seat belt on. No seat belt will save you from a 30,000 foot nose dive going 600mph. Not a one.
I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I make the rules of my flight. I look to my left and my right and realize that the inexperience my fellow passengers exhibit is par for the course; I'm just happy they got past security. I get on the plane because I know that I will be enlightened on the other side. I factor in this world's uncertainty. I understand that there is no such thing as absolute knowledge. I get that I'll possibly never understand how I, a man without wings, is soaring at heights that the birds can only imagine.
I'm okay with it all.
Luckily I can tune out right now with my iPhone. Wake me when we land.