It feels like a crowd of people surrounding an elephant, all very busy.
One touches the trunk and says, “It’s a pipe.” Another touches the leg and says, “No, it’s a pillar.” Someone touches the ear and insists, “It’s clearly a giant leaf.”
The funniest part? Two people who both touched the ear look at each other and go:
“See? Our theories match. We’re confirmed.”
Then they write books, start courses, teach others who haven’t touched the ear yet: “This is what an elephant is.”
Nobody is lying. But no one sees the whole thing.
The elephant is too big. Too big to be understood in centuries. Even if every field, every civilization, puts their tiny pieces together— you still won’t see the whole.
Because what we’re touching are flat surfaces.
And flat surfaces never make a three-dimensional truth.
So I stopped touching. Not because I gave up understanding, but because I gave up the illusion of “leveling up.”
Understanding that it’s three-dimensional, that it’s massive, that every side is true and still incomplete—
