On Magical and Confusing Things

It’s silly, isn’t it, that so many throughout history have asked such a silly question as What is Truth?, or the even sillier, What is The Truth? This, I admit, is one of the most curious aspects of human nature. Certainly, with enough research into biological and cultural evolution, most can understand the basics of how humans came to walk on two legs, develop tools, domesticate animals, etc., but I doubt a scientist today could ever have looked at Earth’s evolution from an outside perspective and predicted, “these strange beasts will not only learn to harness fire, hunt animals, and invent indoor plumbing, but they will also question the meaning of their own existence.”

Amazingly, entire fields of study have been devoted to the task of answering this seemingly impossible question. Philosophy and physics stand out most here, despite often appearing to approach the question from quite different directions. After centuries of thinking about What is The Truth? and proposing various hypotheses, the human race has certainly come quite far along in its journey, extending its arms, hands, and fingertips deep into realms we had not even considered until recently. However, it seems that the very “essence of Truth,” if you like, still remains infinitely far out of reach. Fortunately, we can indeed lock our fingers around a much simpler question than What is The Truth? and pull it towards us for closer examination. That question is Why The Truth?

So, why the truth? Why not lies? Why not just enjoy the simple things in life? Why not spend your days with your true love, laughing and walking hand-in-hand down the beach humming little-known Hawaiian tunes? Why spend hours and days and months and years searching for this odd entity called Truth, an entity that we humans named ourselves? I’d reckon that much of why we search for Truth is intuitive. I learned as child to be honest, to be objective, to be fair. I learned that understanding my surroundings was important, that misconceptions never led anywhere good. And such when I first began peering deeply into physics and metaphysics and philosophy, it seemed inherent that Truth was the ultimate goal and despite questioning everything I stumbled upon, I never bothered to question the nature of my quest itself. Truth was a great lion gracefully traversing the African plains, and I was its pursuer. I was not alone in my quest, but the paths of others had diverged early on enough that I could no longer see them, even when I squinted my eyes. It might as well have just been I and Truth in that open grassland, no one else. Determined to catch and tame this mighty beast, I relentlessly sought clues and hints regarding its whereabouts. Every once in a while I caught a glimpse of it, but it immediately dived off again into the savanna, leaving me unsure as to whether or not it might only have been a mirage. As my quest proceeded, I began to learn a bit about the lion’s nature, to predict a few of its delicate maneuvers. With relative accuracy I could anticipate how fast it ran and where it tended to hide when I approached. However, the creature was always full of surprises and every so often turned unexpectedly, leaving me bedazzled and wondering, for there is much to learn about why a lion behaves the way it does. Not until recently, though, did I begin to question the why of my safari, the why of the Truth.

The why of the lion was much different than the lion itself. Why was I chasing this magnificent beast? Why was I chasing this ever so evasive Truth? Was it only because of its beauty and splendor, because I already felt humbled by its presence, because to catch it would represent a great triumph? Or would it be better just to let it run free and unhindered through the vast expanse before me, so it would not end up caged and on display, where crowds of human eyes would only see its majestic exterior and hear its roar, unable to detect the intricacies of its character? Did the capture and dissection of Truth destroy its entire nature? One answer to the why emerges as at least partially feasible.

In the most elementary sense, we search out this so-called Truth because we seek Satisfaction. We seek Satisfaction in school, in work, in love, in Minesweeper, in everything in life. Feeling unsatisfied makes us feel, well, unsatisfied. By definition, dissatisfaction inspires the strive for Satisfaction. The quest for Truth, then, is simply synonymous with the quest for ultimate Satisfaction. That is what we’re after, ultimate Satisfaction.

Satisfaction is the one feeling for which every creature, every atom, every galaxy, every entity in this universe pines. The inanimate world expresses this Satisfaction as a form of stability. A boulder rolls down a hill until it stops; an ember burns until it has no more fuel; planets settle into orbits amid solar systems, which settle into orbits amid galaxies. Every physical system oscillates until the forces at work balance, and the system relaxes into equilibrium where it can finally release a sigh of Satisfaction. At times the Satisfied states are stationary like the cessation of a boulder’s roll, and at times the Satisfied states are cyclical like the motion of the planets. Either way, every system in the universe seeks out nothing more than ultimate Satisfaction, and then when it has found it, it stops. We humans are no exception; it is simply that our ultimate Satisfaction is Truth. Perhaps if we find it, we too shall “stop.” The mystical quest for this strange idea that once appeared to distinguish us among the universe’s various entities has in fact let us know that in that very respect, we are no different than any other essence around us. We just give our Satisfaction a more grandiose title.

The journey of entities of the universe towards Satisfaction serves not only as a strong unifying point amid external differences, but also as a standard of measurement of one of the most peculiar enigmas of nature: time. One of the most poetic, beautiful, and worthwhile things for everyone to do at some point in their life is to sit behind a large bay window and stare out into a quiet yard during a snowfall. As each snowflake tumbles toward the ground, you can see it as a tiny piece of patterned matter seeking out nothing more than Satisfaction. Unsatisfied hovering in the air, the snowflake descends softly to the ground until it rests upon all the others, finally reaching its long-awaited state of Satisfaction. Every other snowflake in sight mimics its brothers, the whole lot of them tranquilly touching down upon the crystalline sea below, each peacefully achieving its so treasured Satisfaction. And once all the snowflakes have landed on the ground that stretches out unmoving before us, placid and blank, it seems that time almost stands still. Not an insect twitches its wings and not a snowflake moves from its so carefully chosen resting place. In fact, if it weren’t for the rhythmic beat of your heart, your slow but deliberate winter breathing, and the various disconnected thoughts popping in and out of your head, there really wouldn’t be any way to tell that time was passing by at all. No entity around you would appear to be moving toward Satisfaction. Everything in sight would be perfectly Satisfied, no complaints, no qualms, no imbalance of forces, no uneasy tension needing to be resolved. Simply Satisfaction. In a more scientific sense, time would be no more than an acknowledgment of observable entities journeying towards this Satisfaction. If the universe itself were ever to reach complete Satisfaction, then, by definition, time would simply up and wither away. Some people may call this “peace,” but I don’t like to think of it that way. Personally, the journey seems much more fun to me than the destination.

Robert Prisig, author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, used a clever simile in describing his notion of the undefinable “Quality.” Quality, he argued, lies not atop the mountain but rather in the bristling life on it’s sides. But, of course, there could be no sides without a top. A destination is necessary, but it is not where the Quality exists. Something similar, I think, applies to our Satisfaction. Maybe we can only achieve Satisfaction by enjoying our the sides of its mountain. If we can be ultimately Satisfied simply by the quest towards ultimate Satisfaction, then maybe we can reach our destination while still enjoying the journey all the while. To be honest though, I really can’t say; I don’t even want to claim to be able to say; it just seems like kind of a nice thought. But isn’t that what everything’s all about, nice thoughts? And that’s all I want to suggest, a nice thought, a brief contemplation on Satisfaction and on Truth. Nice thoughts always seem to change the world, even if it’s usually in an inconspicuous way.