The entire world can be seen as a process of unfolding consciousness, a gradual manifestation of what was once unified and indivisible. Yet within this process there is a peculiar feature: in creating forms, consciousness does not simply express—over time, it begins to forget that it is the source of what appears.

Each new form starts to experience separation. A human feels separate from nature, peoples from one another, civilizations from the earth, and the individual from everything that exists. This division does not arise instantly. It accumulates as form develops, as though the structure of existence slowly shifts from unity toward fragmentation. This is the state of forgetting.

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It can be observed not only on the scale of the world, but within every individual life. At birth, there is no name, no history, no labels—only pure perception, an open point of presence. Everything that follows gathers around this point: language, memory, experience, personality. Yet the beginning remains inaccessible. We remember almost nothing from the earliest years, and even less of anything that may have preceded them. Memory breaks off before personal history begins.

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This raises a question: why does this happen, and why does each life begin in near-total darkness? Perhaps because consciousness is not only unfolding, but searching for a way to encounter itself anew. If a person were born carrying the memory of all prior experience, the intensity of living would fade. First love would not feel like the first. A kiss would not be a discovery. Friendship, creativity, and the search for identity would feel like repetition. Life would lose the quality of exploration.

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When memory is cleared, the world becomes unknown again. Within that unknown, experience regains depth. Childhood is felt fully. First love becomes overwhelming. The search for one’s place turns into a real movement. Life feels immediate because forgetting is built into it.

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Perhaps memory is not lost by accident, but set aside, allowing entry into the world without ready-made answers. In that state, experience happens directly, not through recollection.

Forgetting is not limited to a single life. It can be traced across the history of humanity. At an earlier stage, human existence resembled a more unified flow. As people spread across the planet, differences emerged. Tribes formed, then cultures, then civilizations. Each began to perceive itself as a separate world. Borders appeared, followed by states and armies. Separation became not only a feeling, but a structure.

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Yet this division remains conditional. All humans originate from the same root. We are not merely similar—we are related, separated by space and time. When this is forgotten, division begins to feel absolute. Peoples clash, defend territories, compete for resources, guided by the perception that they exist independently.

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The same forgetting appears in the relationship between humanity and nature. Civilization emerged within the natural world. Humans built their lives among forests, rivers, and open land. As structures grew more complex, this origin became obscured. The artificial environment gradually took precedence. Nature began to be perceived as something external—a resource, a territory, a source of material.

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Yet the separation is illusory. The human body is composed of the same elements as the earth. Breath depends on the planet’s air. Life unfolds through processes beyond personal control. Nature does not surround a person. It moves through them.

When this connection is lost, perception distorts. The world appears as a field of struggle, the earth as something foreign and available for use, even though the human remains part of the same living system. This, too, is a form of forgetting.

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As civilization develops, this amnesia can intensify. In recent years, this has become especially visible. Following the events of 2020, humanity underwent a global experience of separation. People were distanced, restricted, isolated. This affected not only individual lives, but the collective field of perception.

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Even now, there is a sense that presence has shifted. People have become more cautious, more withdrawn, more distant. What once felt natural—closeness, shared space, direct interaction—no longer arises as easily. At the same time, communication has moved into technological environments. A person is often not among others, but inside a screen, connected yet enclosed.

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Separation becomes less visible, but more profound.

Under these conditions, it becomes easier to forget something simple: that all emerge from the same root, that connection runs deeper than it appears, and that humanity does not stand apart from the planet, but exists as one of the forms through which life unfolds.

In this sense, contemporary changes do not create a new condition. They intensify an ancient one—the state of forgetting.

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And yet, this may carry meaning. Each life begins in forgetting so that consciousness may not only remember, but encounter existence again, directly, as if for the first time.