Insecurity

The reason why we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind the scenes with everone else's highlight reel.

- Steven Furtick

The Present Moment

If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present.

- Ludwig Wittgenstein in Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus 6.4311

Who Am I?

I think of myself as a pretty average guy. But in my quieter moments, I know that's not true. I am not average. I am not typical.

But when I try to describe myself, I find it very challenging. I am many things. And none of them. The best description I can come up with to convey my essence is simply:

I am me.

If I try to use other words, I find myself floundering. I am a man. But while that's probably pretty useful information, it fails to capture the essence of me. I am an engineer. Again, useful. But ultimately, not me.

I am often quiet, sometimes gregarious, usually kind, sometimes annoying. I am sometimes weak, at times full of energy. Sometimes ill, but typically healthy. I am tall.

I am a husband. A father. A friend. A coworker. I am full of thoughts and passions, emotions and memories. I have a house and a car. I like to work with my hands. I love to learn. I love books and movies.

I love the way my sheets feel when I first lay down to sleep. I love to wake up early after a good night's sleep, when my mind feels sharp and my creativity is at its best.

I love people. I love life. I love what I have become.

But what exactly is that? What am I? Who am I? I know my name. And I know many things about myself. But none of them really get at the core of my being. All of them are just appendages.

There is a Buddhist concept of "no self," which I take to mean that what we think we are is just an illusion. I believe what the Buddha meant is that our ego, our collection of ideas about who we are, is ultimately not real. And the essence of who we are is something else. But what is that essence?

Is it like a flickering flame, ever changing, but manifesting as a more-or-less consistent entity? Is it like a lump of clay, slowly molded and reshaped over time? Is it something else entirely?

These analogies are useful for pointing my mind toward the truth. But I don't think the essence of who am I is something my mind can grasp. I have no name for it. Maybe there isn't one.

But when I am quiet, I think I sort of touch it. I experience something that feels ... authentic. Real. More real than anything I see in my physical world. Sometimes, I feel like I connect with something bigger than myself ... and sometimes I feel like I connect to my inner self. And sometimes those feel like the same thing. I touch the thing for which I have no name.

Am I delusional? Possibly. I might be crazy. But this connection seems to light a fire inside of me. It seems to make the world deeper, richer, infusing life and color into everything I see and do. It makes everything come alive. It makes life beautiful.

Is this God? Am I connecting with Him? I don't know who or what God is, though I used to think I did. When I am quiet, is it God that I'm connecting with? Or life itself? Or the universe? Is there any difference? Am I a part of God? Like a cell in a larger organism? Or am I just nuts?

I have no answers to these kinds of questions anymore. I used to think these kinds of questions were crucial. And answers must be found. And have been. But life feels more full when I sink into uncertainty about things like this.

I am not average. I am not typical. I don't think any of us are. I'm fairly sure there is no such thing. I am me. And I don't know what that means. And somehow, that acceptance makes me happy. And peaceful.

The Wisdom of Uncertainty

From the time I was a child, I was led to believe that knowledge is power. Knowledge of things as they are, an understanding of truth, are to be sought for a number of reasons. And there is truth in that. But somehow, I missed the counterbalance to that lesson.

It took many years of experiences that sometimes knocked on my beliefs and my worldview to come to understand the limitations of knowledge. A study of philosophy helped. I began to see that knowledge, if it exists, is very rare. Much more rare than I had previously supposed. I began to see that certainty, far from being the power I had once imagined it to be, was very often a weakness.

There is great wisdom in uncertainty.

I had been taught that faith was powerful. And developing faith could eventually lead to knowledge ... certainty, which ultimately destroys the faith that built toward certainty.

I still believe faith is powerful. Not because it approaches knowledge, but because it falls short of it. Faith is powerful because it understands its limitations. It avoids certainty.

I used to think doubt was the opposite of faith.

Then I learned that faith's opposite was closer to fear.

I think both of those are true in some sense, but a few years ago, I came to the realization that the opposite of faith was more like certainty.

Faith is powerful. It recognizes the wisdom of uncertainty. And it fully embraces its lack of certainty, its lack of knowledge, and enjoys the humility that comes from not knowing.

Faith is powerful.

And uncertainty is the beginning of wisdom.

What do you think? What does faith mean to you? Is the opposite of faith doubt? Is it fear? Is it certainty? Is it something else?

Do you think certainty is a strength? Is it potentially a weakness? Can it be both?

A New Path

Imagine you have lived your whole life searching for something. Something magical. A spiritual experience. A connection to something. You’ve had a taste of it now and then. Once in a while, you’re sure you’ve had a rich taste. A taste that goes so deep, it changes your entire perspective on life. It changes you. And you’re so sure of the experiences, that they set you on a path that dramatically alters the way you live your life, influencing everything you do. Creating for you a powerful identity that forms the basis of your thoughts, words, and actions.

But no matter how powerful the taste these experiences give you, it always feels like it’s just a hint of the real thing. Like the real thing might not be accessible, at least not in this life.

Now imagine that your world is turned upside down. And the method by which you were seeking for that spiritual connection is seriously called into question. And you stumble onto something that delivers the spiritual experiences you seek more powerfully and more consistently than ever before. And imagine that instead of feeling like a hint or a shadow of the real thing, this new path you’ve stumbled on seems more real than anything that came before.

What would you do in a situation like that? Would you follow your heart and continue along this new path? Could you abandon what you had known and loved, knowing it would hurt friends and family? That you would lose friendships? That you would be misunderstood? That you would be judged? Or would you stay with what was comfortable and familiar, knowing that your heart wasn't quite in line with it anymore?

I found myself in this position a few years ago. And as my journey unfolded, for me, the choice was clear. Although it would be painful, I knew I had to follow my heart. I didn't feel like I could do otherwise and maintain my integrity.

I was raised in the LDS Church. From the time I was young, I had had a number of powerful experiences that seemed to point to the possibility that the LDS Church was the true church of God on the earth. And that through its teachings, priesthood authority, and ordinances, I could draw nearer to God than by any other method. The logical chain ran on to many other beliefs that shaped my worldview, but I think that’s the core of it. The LDS Church was it. I had found the pinnacle of religion and spirituality. All that remained was for me to stay on the path and become the man God wanted me to be.

And I was on that path for several decades. I served a full-time, 2-year mission for my church. I was married in an LDS temple. My wife and I started a family, trying our best to teach our children to live by the principles that were taught by the church through its scriptures, leaders, and most importantly, through what we called the Spirit of God – a direct connection to God from which we could receive inspiration.

I served in many different volunteer positions in the church. I lived my life according to the church’s teachings the best I knew how. And I was consistently striving to better understand those teachings and underlying principles so I could become more and more the man I believed God wanted me to be.

Then I entered a period of darkness that refused to be dissipated by the teachings and principles of my church. And I stumbled onto some teachings from eastern traditions that led me to a powerful practice of meditation that turned my entire world upside down. This practice rapidly dissipated the darkness, bringing a powerful sense of light and peace into my life that rivaled anything I had experienced previously.

I began to experience a connection with something that felt very familiar. Previously, I would have called it the Spirit of God. But these connections weren’t precipitated by prayer, scripture study, ordinances, or anything directly related to an external Deity. At least, not that I could tell. They were precipitated by meditation and a series of teachings, independent of God, that I gradually internalized, leading me to let go of all judgment, clinging, aversion, self-loathing, and a whole host of other unhealthy thoughts and emotions. The experiences were completely self-driven. No reference to God. No calling upon Him for Grace. Just a simple looking inward and a consistent, powerful healing process. And, independent of God, these experiences were more powerful and consistent than anything I had ever experienced during those many years where I was directly calling upon God.

How was it possible to have deeper spiritual experiences outside the church than I had ever had in decades of searching for them inside? Was it possible that I was using the wrong method? I can’t adequately describe the torturous path I embarked on as I began to question my deepest, most cherished beliefs. But as I began to truly open my mind to the possibility that the church was not the right path for me, the light began to pour into my soul even more. If there is a God, I must conclude that He led me away from the faith of my childhood.

But why? The short answer is: I have no idea. And I’m not sure it matters. What I do know is that the path I’m on is good. But my experience has taught me that I don’t need to cling to it. Maybe my path will change again. I would be fine with that. I’ll follow wherever the light leads.

I appreciate my religious background. The LDS Church is a really good organization. It helped prepare me to live a good life and to embark on this new stage in my journey. I have no bad feelings about my past. Some things could have been better. Some ideas that were pounded into my head as a child might not have been the healthiest. But that accusation could be brought against my scholastic education as well as my religious education. That’s just life. Everyone was trying their best to help me along the way. It wasn’t perfect? Bummer. As my perspective broadens, I shed the unhealthy over time. No big deal.

I have no idea where my path will lead. But I am grateful for my past and my present. I think the future will be wonderful too. I have many friends and family whose faith still lies with the church I left. For them, I’ll offer up the possibility that my future will bring me back to the church. I personally don’t think that’s likely, but … if the church is what it claims to be, I’m sure the light will lead me back. Maybe God just wanted to take me on a different path for a while to teach me some things He couldn’t teach me in any other way. And when I’m done, I’ll find my way back.

But maybe I’ve simply found something better. At least for me. For right now. By soaking in the concepts and practices of eastern traditions, I think I’m becoming a more well-rounded man with a broader, more open, more inclusive perspective than I had before. I was raised in a very western culture. Balancing that with a bit of the east has been really good for me. I don’t think either culture has all the answers. But as the concept of yin and yang shows how to bring together what seem to be complete opposites, perhaps the way to peace is to raise our perspective, to see the unity among what appears to be dichotomy, and to find light and joy amidst the chaos.