Someone asked me whether I like Elon Musk. Honestly, I don't really "know" him—only the version of him that shows up on my screen. If he’s a nut job, well, who am I to judge? I respect the guy's accomplishments—at least the ones I know about—but to me, he’s more of a cultural figure than a person. Kind of like a modern P.T. Barnum: part showman, part innovator, mostly just good at keeping our attention.
He’s one of those people who turns capitalism into theater. Makes billions. Launches rockets. Tweets chaos. Whether or not any of it "matters" is beside the point—it’s entertaining. And in that way, people like Musk serve a purpose: they distract, they inspire, they stir the pot.
But here’s where it gets interesting. If everything is connected—and I mean truly connected—then I’m not separate from Musk. Not really. If all is mind, then Musk is a projection of the collective mind. My mind included. In a sense, I created him. I experience him. I'm living his reality just as much as mine, because there’s no true separation in a non-dual framework. He’s a thought-form, and I’m a thought-form, and the whole play is one mind dreaming itself.
So yeah, maybe he has the Noah complex, building arks and trying to save the species. Meanwhile, I’ve got the Da Vinci complex—obsessed with inventing, creating, exploring the inner cosmos more than the outer one. But either way, we’re just expressions of the same fundamental energy—playing out different roles, chasing different myths. He builds rockets. I build thoughts. And who’s to say one reality is more “real” than the other?