Truth vs. Madness

What Lies Beyond A Cracked Worldview

One of the things that fascinates me is the concept of willingness to change. It only comes, for me anyway, after my current view of the world has failed me, and that failure has caused such misery that I’m ready to abandon what I thought was the truth for something else. There is an utter self-discrediting that must take place before I can be open to change. I have heard this willingness that comes from pain described as “hitting a bottom,” and the “Gift of Desperation (GOD).”

What’s so fascinating about this willingness is that it feels like a complete roll of the dice. If I abandon what I thought was the truth, will I find liberation from the self-imprisonment of my false beliefs? Or will I find madness? There is no guarantee that truth lies on the other side of that newly opened door. To change one’s mind is to take a leap of faith. It’s terrifying. At least, it can be.

I’m aware that some people approach truth-finding with the scientific method. They look at the evidence, then form a view. When the evidence supports a different view, they change their view. Heck, I do this too, with things that are very far away from my world view. For example, I believe that there are no closer planets to our solar system than those orbiting Proxima Centauri. But if astronomers discovered evidence of a closer planet, I’d update that belief.

I believe my current regimen of flossing and brushing is sufficient. But if I read a clickbait article that says, “Brushing: You’re Doing It All Wrong!” I’m likely to click and am ready to be persuaded that there is more enlightenment to be had between my molars.

But when it comes to my views on who I am, how the world works, God, or other fuzzy notions that are comprised more of feelings than facts, I’m more careful. Changing those core beliefs on a whim can result in real problems. If I suddenly decided that monogamy was a scam, or that cryptocurrency is the next great hope for humanity, I could well and truly mess up my life.

But I also know, deep down, that my core beliefs and view of the world are incredibly flawed (except for monogamy and crypto. Love the former, hate the latter). I have this nagging suspicion that if I just tweaked my understanding, everything would change. This maddening proposition haunts me with the question: What am I missing? It’s a cosmic FOMO. If I could just see around my bullshit, just peek around the corner of this giant hairball I’ve made of reality, and gaze into the truth, how could I change?

Would I suddenly start exercising? Would I finally write with a feverish dedication and produce truly sublime work? Would I not care about those things at all with the serene detachment of an enlightened Buddha? Would I throw myself into joyful service of others and experience the bliss of selflessness? Would I lead millions on a march toward peace or retreat to a monastery and dissolve into God?

I recently read a Jewish prayer that speaks to this nagging question:

Days Pass and the years vanish, and we walk sightless among miracles. God, fill our eyes with seeing and our minds with knowing; let there be moments when Your Presence, like lightning, illumines the darkness in which we walk.

Help us to see, wherever we gaze, that the bush burns unconsumed. And we, clay touched by God, will reach out for holiness, and exclaim in wonder. How filled with awe is this place, and we did not know it!

The way I see people. The way I see places. The way I see the world is shrouded in the darkness of my own biases, prejudices, ignorance, and pride. And perhaps also hope! I hide from the joy and I hide from the despair. I know that.

Sometimes cracks in my view appear and through them I see a world that sparkles. It makes my view look pale by comparison. But the cracks soon fill in. I can’t seem to live in that space.

I’m reading the diary of a young woman who lived during the rise of the Nazi regime and was murdered in the holocaust. Etty Hillesum is her name, and her diary is called “An Interrupted Life.” She articulates so much of how I feel so clearly that I can’t get through the book. I pause on each page and reread it. I underline until I’m underlining half the text. Here’s one of many passages, written after the news that someone she admired was killed:

A world is in the process of collapse. But the world will go on, and so for the present shall I, full of good heart and goodwill. Nevertheless, we who are left behind are just a little bit destitute, and though inwardly I still feel so rich that the destitution is not fully brought home to me. However, one must keep in touch with the real world and know one’s place in it. It is wrong to live only with eternal truths, for then one is apt to end up behaving like an ostrich. To live fully, outwardly and inwardly, not to ignore external reality for the sake of the inner life, or the reverse — that’s quite a task.

Quite a task indeed! I have to know eternal truths before I can even choose them over “external reality.” And yet, I feel as though I know a few. Treat others with love, kindness, and compassion. Do not be afraid. Cultivate Awe. Experience joy and sadness. Read and write. Speak and be silent. It’s not that complicated, I suppose.

So today I guess I’ll try to be open to the lightning flashes of truth revealed in the darkness of my ignorance. I’ll have faith that I can discern truth from madness. I’ll loosen my grip on the way I see the world long enough for the real world to show itself to me. And I’ll endeavor to connect with, as Bill W. called it, the Great Reality within.