Reminiscent memories

On the walk from the Spit bridge to Manly last Sunday, I was talking to my friend and he jolted my memory of a theory I cooked up when I was in primary school.

The Theory:

What if, during our lifetime, we are recording everything, every second, all our senses in the exact way we experienced them. We can see this in a sense that our eyes are a camera, our ears microphones, and our smell, touch, taste, and others sensory not yet encaptured into technology. And after we die, we watch it all again and evaluate what we have done.

I guess many people facing death would mentally go through the same process, but this was a time in my life where I was considering if heaven and hell existed, wondering about different religions. And if it comes down to our own judgement if we deserved to enter into which destination, or in a moral sense, if we can prove to ourselves if we are good and true enough. To many, it is not just what we see is the cut off, but if we've healed our wounds and if we feel strong enough.

There was also during the development phase, I would purposely blink my eyes at a sight I enjoyed, in the slight chance I would be able to capture and emphasise that moment. I also didn't have a camera then so it was a good idea to do so.

In a slight humanistic point of view, I thought it was more our own duty to determine if we deserve a rest per say and it was to our own responsibility to fullfill our life in the best of our ability for it to be valuable. Some people may find this by completing accomplishments or fullfilling goals, or just one in particular. The idealised magical words we often hear this in was The Meaning of Life, which never really made sense due to the way in which our media has presented it, something only achievable in Sharingri-La or a Utopian society.

Because I was so young at this time I thought, to keep it safe, I'll just try to be as good as I can. This failed sooo many times, but you can understand how annoying certain people can be *cough* siblings *cough*. Now I know why I could never find the Santa Clause.

Looking back and reflecting on my younger self, I feel like I've lost by creativity. I came up with all sorts of ideas, many I couldn't write down or was just too embarrased to say, but I don't seem to have the talent or skill anymore, as if it's been soaked or contaminated by todays society's views, education and all other forms of information they force onto you, ripping the freedom of your own thoughts from "manisfesting".

And they ask you, "any questions?" as if they have not beein conditioning you your entire life.