How do we know if we’re in control? That we’re not just making the best of what comes at us, and that’s it. Trying to constantly pick between two options. Like your two paintings in the waiting room. Or Coke and Pepsi. McDonald’s or Burger King? Hyundai or Honda? It’s all part of the same blur, right? Just out of focus enough. It’s the illusion of choice. Half of us can’t even pick our own our cable, gas, electric. The water we drink, our health insurance. Even if we did, would it matter? You know, if our only option is Blue Cross or Blue Shield, what the f*** is the difference? In fact, aren’t they the same? No, man, our choices are prepaid for us, long time ago.
Control can sometimes be an illusion. But sometimes you need illusion to gain control. Fantasy is an easy way to give meaning to the world, to cloak our harsh reality with escapist comfort. After all, isn’t that why we surround ourselves with so many screens? So we can avoid seeing? So we can avoid each other? So we can avoid truth?
Scientifically speaking, life’s nothing but a series of chemical reactions. So, to accelerate or decelerate that process is of no great matter. It gives us that illusion of power in a life with little.
People don’t really want to be free. Besides, it’s an illusion. I mean, you take my birds, they just love flying free, but every night they fly on home to their cages where it’s safe and warm.
The poor disgust us because they are us, shorn of our illusions. They show us what we’d look like without our fine clothes. How’d we smell without perfume.
This is my problem with police officers. All you care about is evidence. Evidence, evidence, evidence. Until that evidence no longer fits the narrative you need to be true, at which point the evidence becomes an illusion, a mistake.
We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, this accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody when, in fact, everybody’s nobody.