As I have mentioned before, I was quite introverted and grew up to be quite critical of the world. My only solace being my belief in my sharper mind. In order to validate this opinion of myself though, I studied philosophy and rigorous logic in order to maintain a level of objective correctness over anyone else. I studied science, history, and the ideas that shaped mankind into the society it is today. In my ambition to impress upon others my profound studiousness, I became, in truth, a student of others, and how they might be impressed.
And so, under the guise of the eager student, I resumed consumption of all the knowledge that would make me wiser. I went on to study physics and philosophy in college, knowing it would add to the repertoire of this persona I had made. I sharpened my mind over and over against thinner and thinner razors of reason and logic. I sparred myself no impunity as I often teetered upon life's endless meaningless trudge from and unto oblivion and it's astonishing beauty and inherent worth. Tears of anguish and awe alike. Over the years of my studies however, this persona began to whither. Particularly in the change from my studies of physics into that of philosophy. Time and isolation wore down any need to impress to the more fundamental need to justify living. I am not one to end my own life, but it became apparent that, more than anything else in my life, I needed to figure out why exactly I was here.
Time marched on, and as I continued my studies of the ontological and metaphysical nature of our existence, I realized something was wrong. All the theories, all the ideas, all the science; none of it was providing any kind of answer I sought. What I was after was the truth, the end result and final answer. But there was none. The only thing we can ultimately know is that we cannot know. And while that is a dissatisfying answer for most, it was revelatory for me. I came upon a realization that in this known unknown lies the truth, and by virtue of that fact, any truth is possible.
Oh, how boring it became to know anything at all.
This was the beginning of the discovery of my purpose in life. To be a peddler of truth and a harbinger of change. How awful it was that all those around me seemed to stiffen in their thinking. We all do as we age, I think, but better to stave it off. So stale and stagnant the world becomes when it makes too much sense.
Armed with this, I undertook a more authentic ambition to understand people once again. I cared not of what was true, but more of what others considered to be true. The boundaries that separated their notions of possible from impossible. How possible is it that the stars guide thy fate? How possible is it that feelings are more than neurons? To what extent could I convince you of what you currently consider impossible? And if I can change that, how sure are you about anything at all?
Knowledge itself lent me some degree of the studious character. But what I remember most are not the grand logics of Newton's cosmos, rather, I remember the moment I averted the social pressure of the room with that knowledge. I seemed intelligent beyond my years, and it made people uncomfortable to talk to me about the subjects I loved most. It was a strange paradox of my conflicting desire to impress and impose. Yes, I did love to wonder about the Divine Command Theory, but I also had so much to say on it that the conversation, I, became impossible to approach. It was a kind of power that made some squirm and others squawk; both a mesmerizing reveal of their internal states, the more important thing to me. I would never claim to be a saint, for I love the sound of the crack of the devil's tail when it whips in delight of what he is witnessing. I revel in the infinite gaps of time the mind fully occupies in deciding how to engage this devil. I love to see belief collapse faster than the old stars.
More often it is the case that I am but a pompous fool seeking foolish things. And while I know it is an arrogant, conceited thing to describe, I also know it is more than that. I cannot help but to delight in seeing others change as I have changed. In all my ramblings of what is what of this universe, of God and greater things, I am only really after a faint glint in the eye of someone who beholds it. Just that little shift of the mind expanding into what it considers possible. Becoming aware of its own awareness. It is the greatest feeling in the world.
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