I have spent the better part of the past two years pushing very hard against my mental, emotional and spiritual limits. I have engaged in difficult consciousness-raising introspection, I have taken on sometimes painful and near-breaking shadow work on some of my most insidious internal conflicts, and I have dramatically increased the deliberate management of my personal and professional life. I have changed and developed a lot. It hasn’t been easy for me or for those around me, least of all my family. And I should be more grateful for having a wife and kids that can handle and appreciate that about me.
Where I keep getting caught up is belief. I am afraid not to have belief, I don’t believe in dogmatic atheism even though I have no inclination besides occasional fear or hope to believe in any sort of personal god, and I fear that lacking an epistemelogically-sound existential footing is a serious problem.
I wonder why that is?
Letting go of belief means letting go of the idea that belief is necessary, that epistemological foundation means anything. It accepts evidence as practical information, but not as a stand-in for religion. And that comes from the most authentic part of me -- whatever we’re calling that this week.
But sometimes I am afraid that lacking my own belief story separates me from those who have strong, well-defined belief stories. Here’s an example. A little over a year ago I became acquainted with a practicing psychic and had a series of very interesting and engaging dialogs. During this time I was feeling very open to alternate belief stories to those I had already abandoned. But more than that, I truly enjoyed the exchange of ideas and experiences that occurred. Which inclined me to investigate more deeply the belief stories that this individual holds.
It was fascinating, and a genuine part of my personal journey -- not just a vain detour. The perspectives this exchange exposed me to facilitated some intriguing and enriching experiences, and it was so rewarding to have a dialog with someone else who explores the less mundane aspects of consciousness. But at the level of belief, for me it was like a transplant rejection. The beliefs that my friend associated with these experiences just didn’t gel for me.
Which, incidentally, is pretty much the same reaction I have had to every belief system I have explored. The idea of making assertions about the nature of the invisible world that explain the source of consciousness and the nature of existence is, to me, just a little bit silly and a lot presumptuous. It’s like telling stories about the lands beyond the village gates and the fantastic creatures that inhabit them. It’s fascinating and exciting, but all the same, it’s just guesswork. No matter how compelling the experience, the story comes from a different place, and I don’t accept that just because we call a certain class of experience “intuitive” that it is not subject to the same rigors of reasoning as that which we classify as “empirical” or “scientific.”
Now mind you, this is coming from someone who has had -- and encourages -- some pretty far-out experiences. I’ve found myself swimming in some pretty bizarre states of awareness, and had interesting conversations and I can’t be certain whether or not it was me on the other side. So I’ve brought back some interesting stories. But when I combine introspection and reasoning, in every instance I am forced to confess that the story is nothing more than a bookmark. It’s a way of returning to the experience, but it does not tell anything about the experience. In fact, when I accept the story as the truth, it diminishes the experience, because the story comes from the perspective and level of development of that time. And when those change such that the story is no longer congruent, the whole experience is thrown out. Once the story and the experience become intertwined, one or both get lost or they anchor your growth and perspective to that from which they arose. And that’s just not authentic for me.
So I take a dim view of belief stories. And as a result, I am distrustful of anyone who tries to promote a particular belief story as accurate or representative. It is simply a conveyance; a means of transmitting an experience. And when a psychic does it, I think they are acting as a proxy, transmitting such an experience to another individual. Neither the means nor the explanation need to be viewed as concretely “true” per se; but the insight and experience should probably be thoughtfully considered and acted upon: just as with any such personal experience. So even that ability is not diminished by the subtraction of the element of belief. In fact, it's really a special gift to be able to transmit a perspective-altering experience, and it's my opinion that attributing it to anything outside our nature just blinds us to the magnificent and as yet unbounded human potential.
So here I am, hung up on belief. It’s not that I don’t believe in anything that lies beyond science and senses; it’s that I don’t believe that we’re doing any more than telling stories to fill the gaps in our present apparatus. But belief is a big part of how relationships form, which in large part shapes the direction of our life and our social opportunities. Beliefs in common or in conflict are a big factor in the relationships we form, for good or for ill. Many people build their social life around congregation with people of like belief; others choose their life’s purpose based on what their beliefs teach team.
Again, for good or for ill.
But for me, belief is dead weight. God is dead weight. Metaphysics is a boat anchor around the neck and religion is just metaphysics with a historical claim of authority. For many people belief provides strength and comfort, for me it is encumbering. Most of my personal struggle in life has come from trying to make conform to beliefs that I don’t actually hold, or trying to find beliefs that I can embrace. Or rather, from trying to make my life conform to belief when I don’t believe in belief.
And without belief, without a fixed lens of interpretation, without a conclusive narrative, I am able to wind through life like a jazz musician; at least when I remain conscious enough to truly create and improvise and not fall back on my practiced licks. So instead of a story I have a song. Granted a tonally diverse and highly improvised song, but it's my song. And I like it. I’m proud of my song, and I love that it constantly changes and meanders through themes and variations and improvisations.
That's how I create meaning in life. And really, that's just what belief is for. It's one way of creating meaning in life, and there is no error or naïveté in having and embracing belief; only in thinking that belief -- especially a particular belief -- is the only valid way to find meaning in life. Belief is a tool for creating meaning, and when it is used for that purpose it is a beautiful thing. But I’m not going to advocate that someone who is not good with their hands start juggling flaming chainsaws, nor am I going to rant about the abuses and misuses of flaming chainsaws in order to persuade those who are good at it from juggling them.
I take to heart the line spoken by Chris Rock's character in the movie Dogma. I may not have this entirely correct but you get the idea (sic), “I think it's better to have ideas. You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier... A belief's a dangerous thing. People die for it. People kill for it.”
I can't help thinking that our most exquisite ability as human beings is our ability to find meaning and even beauty in everything from ecstatic joy to the depths of suffering. And belief stories are ready-made for just that, but in the end I don't think it matters if you do it using a book or your imagination or anything else. I do it by trusting that I can solo over the band and they’re going to back me and keep the rhythm tight.
And I may not have the greatest chops in the world, and people might not want to come out and listen to me play, but it's my tune and that's what I'm playing tonight.
