I find most disturbing the fact that we often tell our own truth, our own reality without being aware of it.
Just recently I read something I wrote many years ago only to realize that the insight I wrote about came back to consciousness a few week ago. The issue (insight) comes back up to be dealt with. Why are we so eager to mute the truth that we push it aside when it’s inconvenient? How is it possible to write about the our truth without fully grasping it?
We pride ourselves on being an intelligent species, on our evolution… and we keep missing the most elementary truth about ourselves. We are all blind to what we do, to who we are enough to deny the truth and reality because it would disturb our precarious balance.
How weak do we have to be lie to ourselves about ourselves?