Sol

It feels like staring at an infinite cosmic expansion when I wonder about consciousness. Isn’t it the the truth behind our existence the most asked question? Trotting through philosophies of existentialism and nihilism and absurdism, I came across solipsism. I pondered very curiously about it’s idea. Was my thought the only reality. Am I just a star in space simulating an entire world of countless probabilities and devious details? What is this narrative, even. Who am I talking to?

The room is dimly lit and I hear Arctic Monkeys on the speakers. It was probably my subconscious expressing it’s desire to listen to Alex Turner. I sit facing the long alleyway that opens up to two thresholds. And another room lie opposite. This is a weird position to be sitting in. It makes me wonder why the sofa is placed this way. It makes me wonder if it’s a glitch or if this is how my mind is wired. A long couch close to the wall on my right has an ASUS laptop on it. I can see it’s colour. I can see the orange bucket under the wall mounted air conditioner on my left. I feel as so I am being threatened because I write with no preparation right now. I would pace about till I have an equilibrium in both my mind and my body and the body around me. But as I try to make sure that everything I know is not only a figment of my imagination, I write sitting beside a peer almost disturbed by the sound of cricket commentary from his smartphone.

It seems impossible to comprehend. An entire history of billions of species in billions of numbers. Obviously the artist in me hugged the need for individuality in each of my creation. From all the stories in the world to each individuals reality, there has been unbelievable moments throughout each life. And yet, as I continue this exploration I am forced to this inevitable paradox. My mind has created this idea of solipsism in the first place and I am truly not capable of understanding it’s implications.

It’s said that the theories of knowledge that adopt the Cartesian egocentric approach tend to be solipsistic in nature. Yes, each exists in their own simulation. But where is each living? And what is each living?

As I have been channeling all my energy to this article, the world around me has continued to run in perfect harmony. Or so I believed. The room changed, of course. But what about outside? Whatever I couldn’t see had no guarantee of existing. The intricacy of the details extended till a rover on Mars, but like the Simulation Argument, it’s instance is only triggered by you. It’s strictly for your mind only.

Since the beginning of my curiosity, I had been aiming for a resolution from another dimension. I was a psychonaut but the deepest travels had availed no answer. I had investigated in detail about Dr. Sorme’s ritual. And as I had begin to note down this entry, I had reached the end of Sorme's instructions. Well, if my mind is alone in this, this entry makes no sense. It is bound to become a recorded memory for a different simulation. The ritual shows you a vision that will give you the answer. Sorme was confident.

This was not a high for sure. I was just staring at a visual art video and taking in a Page riff.

Somebody knocked. I absentmindedly got up, walked to the door and opened it.

A red dusty landscape lay till the horizon where it split with dark vacuum. This was clearly mars, right outside my door. My apartment opened to fucking mars. I phased out for two seconds before I turned around to my friend shouting, “Chutiye, khana lena”. I turned back to see the familiar view of my apartment’s exterior with a delivery executive standing with my friend’s food.

I took the package and shut the door. I sat down, my mind exploding. I thought of this wretched consciousness. I realised it’s unending expansion. I sat down to write.