Doing Your Own Thinking

I've been searching for truth and the meaning of life for as long as I can remember. My earliest memories of such thoughts date back to the second grade of elementary school, which means it was probably going on well before that. Little wonder that I was rarely the teacher's pet. Still, it's important to be true to who you are and for better or worse, that's just how I'm wired.

Unfortunately, I've never had the luxury of blind faith, as the logical portion of my brain refuses to just sit down and shut up. This manifests in a number of ways, none of them particularly convenient. It causes me to question everything, even my most deeply held beliefs. It's also merciless about calling out anything that bends the common sense needle just a bit too far. I've had to replace that needle so often I'm sure I'm putting some service rep's kid through college.

The geek side of me also frequently shows up dressed as a five year old, armed with a single question, the only weapon it will ever need. “Why?” If you've ever tried to explain a concept to such a person, you've learned just how deep the rabbit hole will go. This may well explain my unreasonable fear of bunnies.

Of course, my hippie half blissfully searches for the answers to life's mysteries with little regard for the stringent restrictions of its more sensible sibling. Thus logic gives way to intuition, and I follow every idea I encounter for as long as it resonates with me. Each new person is an opportunity for discovery, each spiritual path a welcome excuse for adventure.

After an encounter in the 70s, I'm certain that there are a couple of Mormons who are convinced that I was a deranged bunny in a previous lifetime. One weekend there was a knock on my door, and when I opened it I was greeted by two well-dressed young men, bicycles parked politely in the driveway. They asked if they could tell me about their faith. I'm sure this is the point where most people slam a door in their faces, but I was delighted and invited them in, offering something to drink and a comfortable seat.

A fundamental requirement for successful interaction is having common expectations. Sadly, this is where the wheels came off the wagon. I was looking forward to a friendly and meaningful chat about their belief system. You'd think that would be the exact scenario missionaries dream of, but I quickly realized they were operating with well-defined constraints.

They had a presentation book of the type that door to door salesmen use, and they were keen on walking me through it. Upon completion, this would doubtless result in me joining their religion. However, from my perspective, this was a chance to talk to people who were knowledgeable about their faith, ask questions and gain an understanding of how it compared with other spiritual beliefs. With each new question they became increasingly uncomfortable, which surprised me since I was genuinely interested in what they had to say.

After a few minutes it became clear that they weren't allowed to have a casual conversation or answer questions, only to make their presentation. They had been trained and were on a script, repeating words that had been outlined for them by others, and there would be no deviation. I was disappointed, but we parted with courtesy and pleasantries. These were good guys who were out there doing what they believed in. I'm sure that few people had the level of interest that I did in exploring spiritual paths, so the sales presentation was doubtless the best way to grow their religion. It was, nonetheless, a learning experience. Just not the kind I was hoping for.

There have been other experiences where I did indeed have lively and candid conversations with people who were well versed in their belief systems. It's almost always a lot of fun, as long as each person is willing to entertain the other's point of view and be considerate and friendly when they see it differently. Some things I've taken to heart. Others were dissected by my inner geek before I even made it to my car. Even so, I measure progress not by the individual encounters but rather by the general trajectory over the years, so my interactions with people have almost always been positive.

Of course, you can't walk this path without encountering a few who can only be described as zealots. Passionate and inflexible, their way is right and everyone else is wrong. You must convert to their way of thinking. Resistance is futile. While I do appreciate the passion, about the only thing not allowed on either side of the street in my philosophical discussions is the phrase, “you're wrong.” It's impolite.

That's just my own approach, of course, as for me the point is learning and growing. I don't see how that can be accomplished with a closed mind. Also, I'm just a firm believer in common courtesy and the value of being nice to people whenever possible. When I do meet people who are more interested in converting the unworthy than they are in a mutual exchange of ideas, I simply leave the conversation as soon as manners will allow. Even if someone is being abrasive, there are no bonus points for being rude in return.

Fortunately, such incidents have been few and far between. As it turns out, the greatest challenge to my progress hasn't been aggressive people intent on beating me into submission, or even polite, bicycle riding gentlemen who weren't allowed to have an unscripted conversation. The largest obstacle on my path has been me. Go figure.

While I have no qualms about vaporizing one of my beliefs the moment it won't pass muster with the rational aspect of my mind, that's not the default. Intuition is. If I go down a path and it resonates with me, I adopt it as my own. Sure, my weekends are full of coffee and contemplation, where I consider a new belief in the context of everything else I've managed to bring together, and that can occasionally be perilous to a poorly supported concept. That said, there's no point looking for answers if you're not willing to embrace them when found, so I do.

Because of the inner five year old, I've not been able to just pick a religion and be done with it, never questioning things after that. However, a great many people do exactly this. Earlier in life I was more prone to the arrogance of youth, and at times was dismissive of those who weren't willing to explore the world of spirituality beyond the confines of their religious upbringing. For those keeping score at home, that's nowhere near the complete list of stupid things I've done in my life, but at least it's one I recognized and remedied.

The truth of the matter is that all those people who accept a faith and never look beyond it are often far happier than I am, so I'm pretty sure I know which of us is smarter. That's not to say that I've never immersed myself in my beliefs. On the contrary, I've done it a lot. It's just that I'm always searching, always considering, and always willing to discard an idea that no longer resonates with the way I see the world.

I grew up in the deep south region of the United States, so all through school I practiced Christianity because it was the default religion in that part of the country. In fact, in many areas it was hard to find anything else. Even so, I couldn't sit still. I've probably been baptized or saved by more denominations of Christianity than most people even know exist. Each church was a new experience, and each time I had questions that no one could really answer other than encouraging me to just believe.

Eventually, as I got old enough to move out and start my adult life, I left that religion behind and travelled around enough to encounter new spiritual paths. And yet, back when I was a practicing Christian, I was certain that it was the one true path. By the time I was 18 it was well into the 70s, and spiritual seeking was what all the cool kids were doing. That made it easier to discover ideas and new ways of thinking. Each time, I was certain that I was on the path to truth, and it wasn't uncommon to be at parties with a group of kindred spirits who felt the same way.

As the years went by, this cycle repeated itself many times, and I was always sure that because I was actively seeking truth wherever I could find it that I was actually forging my own path, creating my own personal religion if you will. In fact, that was always my intent, as no matter how intriguing I found each new philosophy, none felt complete to me. My solution was to simply take the truths that resonated with me from each path and use it to build my own. Because of this, I really thought I was discovering something unique.

One of the fundamental tenets of my personal belief system that has never diminished is the requirement that no idea can be immune from questioning. Truth will be truth no matter what you throw at it, so that's my way of weeding out the weak and the sick from the herd. If you're a belief, you're challenged almost daily. The moment you flinch at a question, you're outta here.

It's worth mentioning that this applies only to my own convictions. It's not my place to question the truth of others. I have a hard enough time with my own. In fact, there have been periods of my life where huge portions of my spiritual landscape have been vaporized overnight because I asked one question too many. It's not an experience I can recommend. Nonetheless, the day I stop questioning my spiritual truths is the day I quit growing.

A large number of these notions met their demise on the day that I discovered I was in no way forging my own path or offering any new perspectives. No matter whether my ideas came from casual conversation or deep meditation, it turns out that I've never had an original thought in my life. All I've ever done has been to repeat the beliefs of others. Being honest with yourself is a perilous pastime, and that was a very hard day. But then, that's the risk of seeking truth. The truth you find may not be the truth you wanted to hear, but you still have to be willing to hear it.

In forging my own path I knew that I'd have to give up the certainty of well-established schools of thought. It's much easier to go along with everyone else than to step outside the circle and question everything, but I was willing to do that in the name of seeking truth. What I didn't realize, however, is that I was just stepping outside of one circle and into another, each time simply parroting the words of others and pretending they were my own.

I'm a musician and a writer, so I know that all art is evolutionary, not revolutionary. We each have our influences. The same is true of philosophy. We build on what came before. There was a time in the history of humanity when we believed in a pantheon of gods, sometimes men with the heads of birds, other times deities who lived on top of mountains and wielded thunderbolts. Over the years those were replaced by the belief in a single, invisible god. Hundreds or thousands of years from now, we'll probably believe in something else.

Ultimately it was a bit silly of me, perhaps even arrogant, to think that in a population of billions I'd come up with a completely original idea. I finally realized that my thoughts and beliefs will always be the product of the times in which I live and the sum total of all that I've experienced thus far, and that it's okay to agree with any of that if it resonates with me.

While I can never say that I truly do my own thinking, I do nonetheless chart my own course. Rather than reinventing the wheel, there's nothing wrong with using the ones that already exist, as long as I'm still the one driving. As it turns out, this doing your own thinking stuff is harder than it looks.

Is it possible for us to seek truth by exploring the many spiritual paths in the world, taking from each only those things that ring true to our inner selves? Can we ever be free from the influences of others and truly do our own thinking? Or am I just barking at the moon?