I have never really known what I am talking about.
Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2022 9:42 am
I just want to let everyone who posts and reads at this forum that everything I,namely( DAM) has said on this forum has literally been made up. All of my so called knowledge about the nature of reality, has literally been pulled from out of what can only be this ever elusive mysterious ether, devoid of any knowledge about itself, and yet, has appeared as the complete opposite insofar as it appears as though knowledge is really known...
In reality, I know absolutely nothing about the origins of myself, namely, the self I am known as and through knowledge. So I do not even know who or what is speaking the words I am saying, or why I am saying them. I have no idea as to what I am talking about, or thinking about, or why I believe the things I am speaking of.
All I am doing is making everything up as I journey through this mystery of being. When it comes to knowledge, I have only imagined it into existence, simply because I have no other method of knowing anything, except via my own mental construction of knowledge, known as a mind, whatever that is, I have no idea.
I do not even know what a mind is, except what I believe or make up using words. I do not even know what words are except as mysterious noises coming out of the throat of a human body.
Everyone of us have been born into the same one reality, we're all sharing this same mystery of being, we are all in the same predicament of having to muddle through the same mystery of being that is common to every single one of us. None of us really know what we are doing here, or what we are talking about, we are all just muddling through the same pretense we know what we are doing and talking about, when in reality, nothing really knows anything.
Every single word that has ever left my lips have been inseparable from this mystery. Therefore, every word I have uttered is a mystery even to itself.
Words are crap, because words fail to know truth, words only pretend to know truth, truth is, there is no truth, except in this conception, the unknown conception of I who pretends to know, but in reality, cannot possibly know. In the same context I knew nothing prior to my birth. And will know nothing after the death of my birth. The part where knowing is known is actually a mystery that can never be known.
.
In reality, I know absolutely nothing about the origins of myself, namely, the self I am known as and through knowledge. So I do not even know who or what is speaking the words I am saying, or why I am saying them. I have no idea as to what I am talking about, or thinking about, or why I believe the things I am speaking of.
All I am doing is making everything up as I journey through this mystery of being. When it comes to knowledge, I have only imagined it into existence, simply because I have no other method of knowing anything, except via my own mental construction of knowledge, known as a mind, whatever that is, I have no idea.
I do not even know what a mind is, except what I believe or make up using words. I do not even know what words are except as mysterious noises coming out of the throat of a human body.
Everyone of us have been born into the same one reality, we're all sharing this same mystery of being, we are all in the same predicament of having to muddle through the same mystery of being that is common to every single one of us. None of us really know what we are doing here, or what we are talking about, we are all just muddling through the same pretense we know what we are doing and talking about, when in reality, nothing really knows anything.
Every single word that has ever left my lips have been inseparable from this mystery. Therefore, every word I have uttered is a mystery even to itself.
Words are crap, because words fail to know truth, words only pretend to know truth, truth is, there is no truth, except in this conception, the unknown conception of I who pretends to know, but in reality, cannot possibly know. In the same context I knew nothing prior to my birth. And will know nothing after the death of my birth. The part where knowing is known is actually a mystery that can never be known.
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