“Throughout human history, as our species has faced the frightening, terrorizing fact that we do not know who we are, or where we are going in this ocean of chaos, it has been the authorities — the political, the religious, the educational authorities — who attempted to comfort us by giving us order, rules, regulations, informing — forming in our minds — their view of reality. To think for yourself you must question authority and learn how to put yourself in a state of vulnerable open-mindedness, chaotic, confused vulnerability to inform yourself.”
— Timothy Leary
I like being confused. Not so much because I like what it does to my face as that I like what it does to my psyche. Every time I am sure I have the definitive answer to something, I am more than likely wrong or am settling because I am not looking deeply enough into the well of the question or the well of myself. When I am confused as I often am by the way to settle conflicts or even which way to proceed on a picture or a poem, I know that I must go deeper until I have found a solution which at least feels more right for the moment than any other. Even then the chances are that at a later point I will return to picture or writing and tweak it according to my best guess at the moment.
When I look at political situations with conflicting narratives, whether it be one of the messes in the middle east or the local teacher’s strikes I also want to be confused. It is when I have a clear vision of who is right that I shut myself off to the other narrative. All too often choosing a side does not nor will it ever resolve things. There is always greater truth and greater flow to be found. I would rather be confused and questioning than right and settling.
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