What is your favorite quote?

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Everything you do in life gets paid back to you in kind; good, or bad! Capt C.H.Guidry

Your perception is your reality. Unknown

The nation which forgets its defenders will itself be forgotten. Calvin Coolidge

Freedom is not free! Unknown


Nice thread Silkiechicken

RCG
 
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"The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God." ~unknown~​
 
Your perception is your reality. Unknown

my b/f and I debate this one all the time, I don't know if I can explain why. He says that Perception is Reality and I read the quote like this, Your perception [of reality] is your reality!

Does that make any sense???​
 
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He says that Perception is Reality and I read the quote like this, Your perception [of reality] is your reality!

Common positions - and they are what every view boils down to. Its cool that you guys can "argue" about" it.
YOU are applying the rationale of the indivual. He is not. You view yourself as the center and so things revolve around you. They are only real as they apply to you.
You have seen the Taj Mahal in photos, but since you havent been there to experience it, it is suspect.

HE sees things outside of himself, as an observer, and believes that they are real whether he perceives them or not.
He has seen the Taj Mahal in photos, and so believes it is there whether he has personally seen it or not.

I side with him. I had this whole thing brought to life for me once.

It was in Paris. I was wandering around, looking for something. I can't recall now what it was. I came around a busy corner and directly in front of me was an imposing stone wall, one side of some unnamed building. It was very old, as are most buildings in central Paris and it blocked the street across from me. It seemed to laugh at me as it loomed overhead.

I had to turn left or right, so shrugged and made my way to the right along the crowded sidewalk. I stopped to speak with a cafe waiter and ordered the usual - cafe au lait. The waiter ducked off and I sat down at a small, sidewalk table, remarking at how clean the tablecloth was. They were always like that; clean and crisp, each establishment vying against the others for the best tablecloths. The waiter re-appeared quickly (as THEY always did) and set the steaming drink before me. As I sipped at the hot, creamy drink in it's own whitest-of-white cup, I pondered the behemoth across the street. If memory serves, it was November and winters chill crept in; the warm coffee was welcome. The square stones, piled high across from me, still blocked my path.

Finishing my coffee, I gave the waiter his tip and the usual, "merci." He merely nodded in the way all waiters do. I went on down the street and soon came to the next corner. There I saw the street opened out on the left into a large open area where my nemesis, the wall, came to an end. I turned to get my bearings and was immediately flabbergasted. There, where the wall had turned, stood the world famous Cathedral of Notre Dame.

I had seen pictures of it for years, of course, but was rather surprised to see it for real. I hadn't expected it to be standing there, proudly, amid the dingy apartment blocks and sidewalk cafes. But it is always like that in Paris - around every corner is one famous landmark or another, quietly waiting for someone to come along and simply notice it.

I crossed the busy downtown street, dodging the traffic and angry shouts from the cab drivers. Once safely across, I made my way past the other tourists, looked up once at the structure above me... and ducked through the massive wooden doors.

Inside it was cool, grey and immediately quiet, a far cry from the din of the modern world outside. The wooden beams holding up the ceiling could be dimly seen, high above, dark from age and the smoke of countless candles. Off in the distance of the immense inner chamber, red votive candles burned still, replaced daily by the praying faithful. The smell of incense lingered in the air from the morning mass, tantalizing my nostrils.
A thousand years of man spoke from every corner.

I was awestruck.

Eventually, I climbed the stairs to top of the bell tower, the very tower from which Quasimodo fell to his death. The wind was biting and cold here, high above the streets, and it whipped my hair wildly. To either side, ancient gargoyles leered at me from ancient perches, watching over the equally ancient city. I touched the stones around me and saw where they had been rubbed to glistening smoothness by centuries of pilgrims before me.

It was a moment of epiphany. It was the first time I can vividly recall that there was something outside of myself. Others had BEEN there, too, and shared in their own way what I was feeling.
I shivered and decided I needed some more coffee.​
 
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I'm sorry, but that is not at all what I was saying. I thought I'd have difficulty trying to explain my question. It was just a question. But maybe that's why my b/f and I discuss this often. I am just trying to say that facts are facts. The Taj Mahal is there, however you percieve it becomes your reality, however, the fact still remains that it is there. That is the reality of it.
 
The Taj Mahal is there. However you percieve it becomes your reality, however, the fact still remains that it is there. That is the reality of it.

That is the centralist perspective - what you see is what you know. There is an old story that fits here.

Three blind men were taken to experience an elephant, something they had never known before.

The first was led around to the front of the animal and he encountered the writhing trunk.
"Oh!," he said. "This feels like a snake. Elephant must be another name for 'snake'."

The second man was taken to the side of the beast, where he felt the worn, craggy skin and solidity of the tissue.
"Oh!," he said. "This feels like the trunk of a tree. Elephant must be another name for 'tree trunk'."

The third man was taken to the rear where he felt the long, whiplike tail with its tuft of hair at the end.
"Oh!," he said. This feels like a coachwhip. Elephant must be another name for 'coach whip'."

Each "saw" a different thing, so that was his reality. But there was something more that none of them could see... a hidden "reality," if you will.

The really cool thing is when you can grasp another person's reality, even if you dont share it.​
 
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