Oh, the Internet. Its borderless edges, unrelenting novelty, and limitless supply of companions won my heart and captivated my imagination. It is heralded as the greatest collaborative engineering effort in human history. But it is much more than that. It is the mirror within which we see our reality and the final platform for our conflicts and outrage that will rocket us towards spiritual evolution.
Today the Internet is tidy chaos. Monolithic structures sit like beacons of order. Your friends live in Social Networks, your games, news, stories, and videos are all curated within their own specialized platforms. All of your content is collected in aggregate and filtered to you based on your interests. We roil amongst each other within these beautiful systems as lightning-coated bits.
The Internet is codified dualism. As often as you can find light, so too can you find darkness. If you are searching for games, you can find out how to cheat. If you are looking for friends, you can find combatants. If you are looking for horror, sexuality, gore and depravity, you can find it. If you are not looking for horror, sexuality, gore and depravity, you can find it, too. Yet equivalent hope, inspiration, love, and kindness are never far.
In days, more emotions, more feelings and more experiences than are fit for a lifetime. But what happens to a soul when it is exposed to this mess? These oddest shades of human truth? How can it reconcile what it has seen, and so much of it? It cannot! It splits in twain.
People are angry. Cause, after cause, we claw at each other and spit vitriol. But there is method to madness. The destination is equilibrium. All of our stories, every possible human narrative, each and every one will have its champion. Each one will contend against the next. Every personality will be tried, and no winner will emerge.
We do not need to be educated on the relativity of truth to remind us that the world is many shades, that there are always more questions. We can now sit back, flick through a glowing screen and witness it all. We can see the dance. The red, the blue, the black, the white, all culminating in an endless flow of brilliant, hyper-verbal mud.
Our individual thoughts are losing their value as we witness the sunset of intellect. With the aid of dazzling machines we will soon master the tangible experience. There is great work to do, but mastery is within our grasp.
We can meet the needs of every person on the planet. The sun can provide us with power. Our ingenuity can continue to produce efficiencies and artworks that celebrate and inspire the imagination. We can return to natural balance with our Earth. We can realize our dream of dancing into the cosmos. But who will we be when we leave here? What will we be?
Ancient and brilliant spiritual philosophies and modern psychologies share a common thread. They define a construct: our thoughts, the mind, the ego, the self; the thing with many names. Beyond the thing is the watcher: the observer, our spirit, the truth; God.
We are not our thoughts. We are what is behind them. We are what is watching the story of self unfold. And together, behind these narratives, in that entity, we are the collective. We are not what we think we are. We are not what other people think we are. We are not thought. We are not this chaos, this noise. We sit behind it.
Identifying this ego, this story, the self-construct, was once a challenge. It would take a therapist’s couch to help us peer into our subconscious patterns, or deep spiritual practice, or decades of diligent self-reflection. But to see it now, to learn its tricks, to see the folly of its desires and passions, one need only look at the profiles we craft for ourselves.
When we gaze into our curated profiles through reflective, glowing glass, what do we see? We see our idea of us, our thoughts of us. It is not us. We are the ones looking at the ideas of us. The more clear this becomes, the easier our stories will shed. We will put our phones down and we will realize everything.
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