Now, imagine the glass part is not there. You are looking at a well made entirely of milk, sitting in the middle of the cosmos.
No matter where you are on Earth, you can look up and see this well of milk. If you climb a tall enough mountain, or board a small enough plane, you can approach the milk– you can touch it, smell it, or even take some.
No matter how much people take, the well of milk remains.
That milk is truth.
Some people go on with their lives, never looking up, never wondering what it is, or what it means to them.
Others dedicate their life to understanding its essence.
Some people reach into the well with their bare hands, dripping milk between their fingers, desperate to understand it in the fleeting moments before it slips between their fingers.
Others rely on ceremony and declare the truth to be divine.
They use a jewel-encrusted goblet, or a clay mug, or a disposable cup to sample the milk– never seeing how the vehicle they have chosen imposes limitations on truth itself.
Still others deny it’s divinity and measure it with the slow tools available to their ever-growing understanding of science.
The same milk that watches over an oblivious child on her way to school is the same milk found in a golden chalice. The same milk found in a test tube is the same milk found on the floor, splattered from the dirty fingers of a hobo.
Truth is neither a chameleon nor a con-artist, and it does not share its secrets lightly.
It is ageless, eternal, and unchanging– but it is not all there is.
There is Perception, a fugitive who makes a mockery of the laws of truth. It whispers to anyone who seeks the well, singing a song of righteousness, power, and superiority. The song dances and delights, but if you listen carefully, past the cacophony…
Truth is bellowing, echoing the earth, playing a drumbeat that sets the rhythm for everything that is and was.
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One day, my dad told me about truth and his explanation went a little something like this. I thought of it today when reading a post by HumansAreWeird. He starts by asking what truth is, but I think the answer is fairly straightforward.
Truth is space milk.