Everything you know is made up.
A sunset is beautiful because your mind told you it is, and you believed it. When you look at its vibrant oranges and reds, you’re only seeing what your mind created—a visual representation of a thing with no appearance. Your mind does this with all sensory input. All things come to you filtered—an impression of truth.
Your body is part of your mind. Without the body, the mind would have no input. No stories to tell—stories it weaves out of an incomprehensible reality. The mind and the body are one.
Those searching for the spirit world do not realize their mind is the spirit world. Does it manufacture amazing stories with magical laws? What a wonderful world that must be—all the while, it’s pointing to the mundane and whispering, “I’ve already created something magical.”
All things perceived are made magical by you—and by me. We create them together and write tributes to sing. The feel of wind in your hair is not a property of the material world—but the creation of a sentient life.
Yes, the world is real and so are you, though separate—unable to understand each other fully—together all the same. I see the shadows of things unknown, and I wonder at how they come alive by my own nature—to create a world just for me.