These varied systems may seek to probe behind the curtain, below the surface—but on whatever level they purport to operate, they are attempting to uncover ultimate Reality.
Meaning: a Reality that already exists.
The philosophers and priests don’t view this as a problem. And for the most part, their audiences don’t see a problem, either.
This is an astonishing state of affairs.
It is made astonishing because every human has the capacity to imagine and invent realities; and of course these realities don’t exist, have never existed, until they are invented.
Unfortunately, the overwhelming number of people prefer to ignore this fact. They prefer to attach themselves, like barnacles, to some reality that is already there, whether it is superficial or “profound.”
And were you to question them about their preference, they would fail to understand what you were talking about.
They’re marching in the parade and attending the carnival called What Already Exists.
The “there-ness” of What Exists is entrancing, hypnotic, the number-one box office hit of all time.
If you took such an entranced human and locked him in a room with a table, paints, brushes, canvas, and water—and told him he would only receive a meal when he produced two paintings, he would face a very steep situation:
His massive loyalty to What Already Exists would meet his desire to remain alive.
Some people, in that room, would opt for starvation. Others, despite everything they’d been taught to think, would begin to paint.
They would slide two paintings under the door and receive food through a slot. A meal.
They would do this three times a day—and at some point, after they had completed fifty paintings, a hundred paintings, a thousand, ten thousand, they would wake up from the deepest trance they had ever known.
They would see with new eyes. They would think with a new mind.
What Already Exists would fade into obscurity.
No, the physical world wouldn’t disappear. In fact, the painter would view it with new clarity and interest.
But first and foremost, he would know he can live by and through imagination.
He would understand his former ironclad and obsessed attachment to What Exists was itself achieved through an act of imagination. Not through mere acceptance.
That revelation would hit him between the eyes.
This world is run, on a daily basis, by reality-addicts. Their need for their next fix is overwhelming.
Getting that fix is what they call happiness.
This is what happens inside the Reality Machine.
By Jon Rappoport