.“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.”
― Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House
If there's one "truth" I can return to, over and over, it is that I know really nothing at all. I know that for some, this might be the doorway to existential dread that is best left well alone, but truly I have found it so peaceful because my mind cannot argue with such a truth. It can try, but I have been to far too many strange and upside down places to believe that any claims on reality, or sense-making could keep the endless mystery at bay and I would rather be devoured by it than resist it. I would rather live by my own truths - the ones that feel beautiful to my soul, than try to find what is real in some outside sense and follow that. This is not to be mistaken for a kind of denying or ignoring... sad is beautiful too. Difficult, incomprehensible, overwhelming...all beautiful, part of the divinity of being human. But the other way feels like putting a wild animal in a cage, the soul inside the bounds of the intellect will fury and fight and then eventually exhausted, it will whither. Losing the strength of it's instincts, unused. Not in this lifetime will I live like this. I would rather be considered mad than be caged in by my own mind. And I would rather dream, madly, than be taken seriously by the minds of others.