The world is given to me only once, not one existing and one

Host: The room is bathed in the gentle glow of early morning light, spilling through the cracks of the blinds, casting sharp patterns across the floor. The air smells faintly of coffee and the remnants of last night’s rain. Jack sits at the kitchen table, a mug in his hands, staring down at the swirling black liquid, lost in thought. Jeeny, leaning against the counter, watches him, her gaze steady, her fingers absentmindedly tapping on the ceramic mug she holds. There’s an unspoken tension between them, as if the world itself is waiting for something to change.

Jeeny: (softly) “You’ve been quiet this morning. Something on your mind?”

Jack: (slowly, without looking up) “I’m just thinking about how we see things, you know? How everything feels so… separate. Like there’s what’s out there, and what’s in here.” (gestures toward his head) “It’s like we’re living in two different worlds — one that exists around us, and the one we perceive. But what if that barrier doesn’t exist?”

Jeeny: (her eyes narrowing, intrigued) “What do you mean? That sounds… strange. If there’s no difference between what we see and what’s real, how do we even know what’s real?”

Jack: (slightly frustrated) “Exactly. But that’s the thing. Maybe we’re just dividing things for the sake of making sense of them. I mean, the world is given to us only once, right? It’s not like there’s one world and then the one we perceive. They’re the same. Subject and object are just two sides of the same coin.”

Host: Jeeny steps closer, her expression thoughtful, almost skeptical. The soft sound of the kettle boiling in the background provides an odd contrast to the intensity of their conversation.

Jeeny: “You’re talking about perception and reality, aren’t you? But if there’s no barrier between them, then how do we account for our different experiences? If everything is just one, how do we explain why some people see things differently than others? How do we explain the fact that not everyone experiences the same thing in the same way?”

Jack: (pauses, staring into his mug) “Maybe it’s not about accounting for it at all. Maybe it’s just that we’re not seeing the full picture. I mean, Erwin Schrödinger talked about this idea, you know? That there’s no barrier between the observer and the observed. The world doesn’t exist independently of us — and we don’t exist separately from the world. There’s only one reality. What we see and what is — it’s all intertwined.”

Jeeny: (raising an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical) “But science still tells us there’s a difference, right? We know what we see isn’t always what’s really there. There’s always an interpretation, a filter. If there’s no barrier, then how do you explain the distance between us and the world? How do we explain consciousness, or how we’re aware of things we can’t touch?”

Jack: (leaning forward, his voice deepening) “Maybe we’re wrong to think that we’re separate from everything. What if our consciousness isn’t something that exists outside of the world, but something that’s deeply connected to it? Schrödinger said that the separation between subject and object is just an illusion — the barrier doesn’t really exist. Maybe what we think of as reality is just a part of us, not something that exists independently.”

Host: Jeeny looks at Jack with a mixture of curiosity and a growing realization. She steps back, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her mug, trying to piece together his words.

Jeeny: “But if we’re not separate, then what does that mean for how we act in the world? Does it mean we’re responsible for everything? If subject and object are one, then are we responsible for how the world is perceived? Can we really change things just by changing how we see them?”

Jack: (with a soft smile) “Maybe. Or maybe it means that how we perceive things is just as important as what’s actually there. We can’t really change the world, Jeeny — not in the way we think we can. But we can change how we experience it. If subject and object are one, then we can influence the world by changing how we engage with it. Not by fighting against it, but by understanding that we’re part of it.”

Jeeny: (eyes narrowing, taking a deep breath) “So, you’re saying that we’re all part of the same whole? That everything — our thoughts, our feelings, the world outside — is one big, interconnected system?”

Jack: “Exactly. There’s no separation. No ‘out there’ and ‘in here.’ Schrödinger believed that when we look at the world, we’re not just observing it — we’re part of it. We’re involved in the process of creating reality, just by being aware of it.”

Host: The room falls into silence for a moment, the only sound now the quiet whirring of the kettle. The soft light of the morning now fills the room, brighter than before, as if the world itself is suddenly more alive, more present.

Jeeny: (quietly, as if considering a new possibility) “It’s a bit unsettling, isn’t it? To think that we’re not just observers, but also part of the creation of the world. That there’s no distance between us and what we see.”

Jack: (nodding, his voice quiet but firm) “It is unsettling. But it’s also freeing. If we really understand that, then everything we do, every thought we have, matters. It’s not just about observing the world. It’s about creating it. Every moment, every experience — it’s all a reflection of us, just as much as we’re a reflection of it.”

Host: The morning light filters through the window, filling the room with a gentle, almost otherworldly glow. Jeeny sits back, her gaze soft, as though she’s seeing the world in a new way. Jack watches her, the words between them hanging in the air, heavy and profound.

Jeeny: (after a long pause, her voice almost a whisper) “I never thought about it like that. But maybe you’re right. Maybe everything is one, and we’re just here, trying to understand it.”

Jack: (looking out the window, lost in thought) “We’re part of it, Jeeny. We always have been.”

Host: The room is quiet, but in the stillness, there’s a sense of connection, of understanding that lingers between them. The world outside is waking up, but inside, there’s a new sense of clarity. Everything is interwoven. And for a brief moment, the barrier between subject and object is no longer so clear.