A digital metaphor for a deeply human journey
Imagine you’re handed a brand-new laptop the moment you’re born.
No password. No programs. Just a pure, humming interface full of potential.
The hardware is your body.
The operating system is your self.
The screen? Your awareness.
And your life… is what gets downloaded.
The Programs You Install
From the beginning, you start installing things:
- Language pack: FamilyEdition 1.0
- Belief System: WhateverWasAround.v1.3
- Self-Worth Tracker (Beta)
- Achievement.exe
- Comparison Suite
- FearWall Pro
Some of these programs are helpful.
Some… are malware disguised as productivity tools.
The Viruses You Catch
Somewhere along the way, you pick up:
- Imposter Syndrome Virus
- Shame Plugin
- Anger.zip (you never unzip it, but it runs in the background)
- Hyper-Control Dashboard
- Ego-Inflator v3.6
These don’t come with uninstall buttons.
They attach themselves to your emotional processing unit and make everything glitch.
The Updates You Avoid
There are moments when a system update is offered—
A heartbreak.
A loss.
A crisis that asks:
“Would you like to update your understanding of yourself and reality?”
Sometimes you click “Remind Me Later.”
Sometimes you install it… and the whole interface changes.
That’s growth.
But it always costs memory.
The Files You Save
You fill your desktop with:
- Memories.
- Relationships.
- Regrets you forgot to put in the trash.
- Random downloads of “success” you thought you needed.
- Folders labeled “someday.”
There are treasures hidden among the clutter.
But sometimes you can’t see them because you haven’t emptied the recycle bin in years.
The Way You Use It
Some people use their laptop to:
- Project illusions.
- Play games.
- Collect followers.
- Prove they’re better than other laptops.
Others use it for:
- Creating.
- Connecting.
- Learning.
- Healing.
You can’t always control what was pre-installed.
But you can control how you use it now.
The Surrender
At some point—expected or not—you’re asked to close the lid.
Not as a punishment.
Not because you’ve failed.
But because the laptop was never meant to be yours forever.
And if there were such a thing as an assessment,
it wouldn’t be a test.
It would be a review:
- Did you use your device to bring light into dark places?
- Did you clear out the junk files and make space for beauty?
- Did you download compassion, courage, stillness?
- Did you learn how to love, even through faulty Wi-Fi?
- Did you give others tools when their system crashed?
Making It a Fair Assessment
You don’t need a perfect machine.
Just one that was used consciously.
- Keep your awareness software updated.
- Run regular scans for ego malware.
- Delete programs that no longer serve your purpose.
- Back up your integrity.
- And once in a while, shut down… and just listen to the silence.
You are the user, not the device.
And one day, you’ll return the laptop—
hopefully with a desktop full of meaning.