Scratching the Surface of Infinity

“And now the time has come…”

Georgie is returning to Melbourne today. We’re both a bit fitter, a bit healthier than we were a few months ago, which is nice. But the bigger change—at least for me—hasn’t been physical. It’s been in the way I think. Or maybe more accurately, in the way I question everything.

Reality, for one.

I’ve been sitting with this a lot lately. Trying to make sense of what’s real, what isn’t, and how I fit into the whole thing. It feels like something’s shifted—not just in me, but in the structure of things. I can’t put my finger on it, but my whole view of life, death, reincarnation, relationships—it’s not what it was.

To be honest, I don’t trust the old rules anymore. Not the way I used to.

Anything Is Possible Now

My yardstick for reality doesn’t cut it anymore. It’s useless. What used to feel concrete—time, memory, history, even my own identity—now feels… porous. Possibly fake. Possibly designed.

I mean, if someone had sat me down in the 1970s and described the internet, Spotify, AI, instant music access, or this current wave of “reality,” I would’ve laughed them out of the room. And yet, here we are. Talking to digital assistants. Streaming the entire world’s catalogue of music. Living on screens.

So maybe simulation theory isn’t as nuts as it sounds.

Maybe we’re in some elaborate program. Maybe we get rebooted again and again—each lifetime just a reset with a bit of memory wiped. Maybe pain and emotion are some sort of fuel that feeds something or someone else. It’s dark, but somehow plausible.

Scratching at the Edges

If this is a game, I’ve only just found the edge of the board. And it’s confronting. But also, a little exciting. Because if the rules can bend, then so can the outcomes.

I’m still not sure if this is growth or just a different brand of delusion. But I think it’s growth. It feels like it. I’ve had a few glimmers—tiny moments—where I’ve felt tapped into something way beyond “me”. Not mystical, not religious. Just… connected. More present. Less afraid.

Even if I’m wrong, those moments felt real.

But Here’s the Catch…

None of this might matter. Not in the way I used to think. What seems to matter most—what I keep coming back to—is how I act in this moment. Right here. Right now.

If I’m living in a simulation, or reincarnating endlessly, or even if I’m just slowly dying in a perfectly random universe, the only thing that seems to hold water is how I treat people. Whether I respond with kindness. Whether I hold myself accountable. Whether I show up with love instead of fear.

That seems to be the real test. Or maybe it’s the only way out.

Still Holding Onto “Me”

I can’t imagine merging with some kind of divine soup of consciousness. Not yet. I still like being me. I like having my thoughts, my creativity, my stories. I like being slightly weird and obsessive and curious. I don’t want to lose all that to some blissful oneness. Not now, anyway.

Maybe that’s ego. Maybe it’s just the human condition.

And Then Came COVID

If you want proof that reality can be shaped, just rewind to 2020. The fear. The manipulation. The tribalism. Suddenly, people were willing to hand over their autonomy for what felt like safety. And just like that, a new version of reality got installed. One that made people distrust each other. One where facts shifted depending on the channel you watched.

It worked. That’s the scariest part. The perception changed, and the world bent to meet it.

History is littered with this kind of thing—wars, religion, genocide, financial systems, broken medical models. Horrible things get normalized and even justified when they’re dressed up in the right language. That kind of mass delusion only makes sense if we’re in a simulation. Or being tested. Or studied.

It’s terrifying. And it explains a lot.

So, What Now?

I’m still working this all out. Still walking through this new perspective like someone trying out new legs. I don’t know what the endgame is. I don’t know if there’s a way to “escape” or if I even need to.

But I do think I’ve changed. Something’s cracked open. The questions I’m asking now aren’t the ones I was asking a year ago. I’m not satisfied with simple answers anymore. And I think that’s a good thing.

So here I am. Scratching the surface of something bigger. I don’t know what it is. But I’m going to keep looking.