"There's a pattern here to see, and the point will soon be clear to me."
I remember that phrase from Stewart Copeland's album 'The Rhythmatist' - I used that music as a soundtrack for a Man Ray presentation I made in college. I guess it stuck with me.
(He made the album while gathering sounds from the soundscape of the Serengeti.)
Maybe the nature of my reality varies from moment to moment, day to day etc. Maybe I have an altered sort of non-circadian concept of time, which qualifies me at least partially, as an animal. It seems that concept of time is the key to mind/reality perceptions. Society provides constant programming from the cradle to the grave, forming our minds with staid cyclic perceptions of reality. I read somewhere that kids need consistency more than love.
It seems it's our destiny to eliminate real perceptions of the natural world. We continue on, we will pass a point of no return: into the matix? (I'm hiding some strawberries in my pocket! Shh!)
It's certainly fun to entertain this stuff though; I have massive yarn balls of hand-written and typefaced, boldfaced assertions on the nature of my reality, and I will continue spinning until my last breath, I'm sure. Maybe.