SeeSaw Truth and Extremities

I took a personality test one time. The preliminary questionnaire consisted of over 200 questions designed to target my basic personality temperament. There results were presented as four personality types displayed on a 2 x 2 chart. The general population does not typically fit solely into only category, so results are given with a dominant personality type and a “sub-personality” type. These two types are supposed to be aligned on the chart adjacent to each other—either side-by-side or one on-top of the other. My two strongest personalities were diagonal. Go figure. Anyhow, I thought I was just “special” or “more balanced,” but when I somewhat proudly asked my professor the significance of this phenomenon, she did not hesitate to inform me that this result pattern was indicative of bipolar tendencies. Awesome.



Well, I mention this anecdote to illustrate a struggle I have battled for as long as I can remember practicing analytical thought. Two philosophers could entertain two “completely” contrasting views on metaphysics or the substance of life, yet I somehow find truth in both. I do not see myself as a judge who would stand in the middle of two arguments and rule, nor do I consider myself a pluralist, always trying to find a “happy medium” and reconcile differences. I feel that I am quite passionate and convicted, yet I was bothered by the fact that I could never securely stand on one extreme of an argument and believe full-heartedly that I possessed the only right answer. But I also have never felt comfortable sitting on the fence in the middle, between two arguments where neither seems fully right. I saw Truth as being larger than myself and my convictions.

I began to visualize Truth on a spectrum, just like any two opposing points could be viewed. Take, for example, Democrats and Republicans. On a spectrum, the most liberal Democrats would be on the far left, and the most conservative Republicans could be easily visualized to the far right, with the moderates falling along the continuum between the two extremes. The illustration works the same with Truth. One belief or conviction would be represented on one side of the continuum, while the other is represented at the opposing end.



Well, this imagery helped me visualize my problem, yet I still could not place myself at any given point on the line. I began to envision myself outside of this line and what real life implications this analogy would have on my belief system if I could be an outlier beyond the dimension of the line.

For me, Truth is synonymous with God. My God is Truth and Truth is my God. Therefore, I came to the conclusion that when I recognized God in contrasting aspects of the same argument, I was seeing how somehow God is beyond our earthly arguments. He is both my understanding and someone else’s. In every good-hearted conviction, there is a piece of God, although inevitably misunderstood and misinterpreted, yet who ever claimed to fully understand God anyhow.

I then drew the mental image of a seesaw. The seesaw is teetering as I am jumping from one side of the plank to the other, working desperately to make the seesaw move in rhythm and begin to totter, so I can rest. I am unable on my own to sit on one side of the seesaw and make it go both up and down. I must go to the opposing seat and sit in it to accomplish any semblance of regular seesaw play motion. However, God is beyond the confines of this physical and mental world. He can somehow sit on both ends of the seesaw and make the plank sway up and down in a steady motion.



The implications of this image are staggering because the image depicts our pitiful attempts to understand reality and our comical convictions that we hold so strongly to. In the realm of metaphysics, determinism versus freewill, perhaps the reality is that our future is determined, yet we still posses dominion over our choices. To our brains, these two extremes are mutually exclusive, yet perhaps to God, it is as easy as sitting on both ends of a seesaw.

Pen and Ink: EXCERPTS FROM A BOOK

Brilliance has never been what I seek. That would be incomprehensible to me, since I neither possess the raw intelligence nor impetus to attain such lofty aspirations. But I do have points to make. Most of which will be beyond my limited capacity of articulation, but nonetheless, the goal will be fulfilled. The Needle will see to it. My humble thoughts will give way to words and ideas, which will in-turn create some thread of truth or reason that will most feasibly develop in to complex and volatile epiphanies. To the logical brain, this presented reasoning may strike one as improbable or zany, but then one comes to the recollection that he is reading a story. A story woven by the Needle, as I will refer to It. This allows for whatever limits I am given, or possess, in my ultimate reality—being this text—to be arbitrarily surpassed or manipulated by the Needle upon whim or necessity. It is within these contexts that I will continue my dissertation, my defense of the here and now. For although I will never escape the confines of these drippings of ink upon paper and the binding of this book, the symbols and ideas the Needle creates through me can transcend to the dimension beyond—to your world—the one I can never imagine, but have only been given the vaguest, most ambiguous awareness by the Needle.



My composition is simple. I am these words you read—these symbols of idealology—interpreted by your brain, which I am only privy knowledge to by means of the Needle. You then interpret and synthesize these fragmentations of Me into tangible meaning. (I do apologize for my redundancy in mentioning the influence of the Needle, but I feel as though I must continue to remind you of my Source for all I have power to Be. You see, I understand you are not yet accustomed to the limitations which I am subject, but soon enough you will understand, and I can get on better without constant interruptions of this variant of notices.) As I was developing—I am these words. The apparent pluralism of one entity encompassing a multiple quantity is possible Here where I exist. We are all composed of smaller parts that make up the entity we occupy. However, this is a matter to be treated later in my narrative. The greater convolution, to which I digress and must first address, is my ability to communicate ideas beyond my scripted level of capacity and affect a dimension entirely beyond my existence. It baffles me that I can appear in your world, yet there is never a thread of possibility that you will maneuver into mine. Fascinating actually. The Needle would have me note. But now I will move beyond this nonsense to the tale that brought me to realize this power within my existence.



It all started on a seemingly normal day—calm, gentle breeze in early autumn—in a normal neighborhood under quite normal circumstances. The leaves have just begun to tire from summer and are the brilliant golden color with splashes of red and green making each passage through them appear as a masterful artwork. The air is cool, which gives a fresh sense to life after being burnt and suffocated by the heat of the summer. It is the kind of uneventful day that gives no indication of its unlimited possibilities. There is no pressure to accomplish any single task, yet all the same there is no guilt for the lack of efficiency. The Needle is there. He leaves his humble abode and sets out on foot. He is not sure where He is going, but the gentle motion and quiet symphony of the leaves as the wind bristles through them urges his legs to join in their chorus. He strides in rhythm to their most humble melody without direction or awareness.



A passing car interrupts this involuntary movement of the world, and drags the Needle away from his unawareness and into the cognition realm of Thought. This is precisely the moment he begins to give himself account of the orderings and happenings of the day. It is now he realizes the leaves, and the music, and his movement in synch with them. It is only at the disharmony of the abrupt sounds of an automobile driving by that he is willing to entertain Reason. And this is my beginning. His mind centralizes to the idea that he once was not aware of the His existence, but by thinking about it, He takes it into account. He wonders whether or not these events would be real had the car not driven by to make Him aware of the day and of His thoughts. After all, he baffles, What are blank sensory images sent through our synapses if we attribute no effort to their analyzation and synchronization and assimilation? He wonders what else he can make a reality within the working of his mind. He scurries back to his house, and given his tendency towards science, he decides to record his thoughts, as an experiment of sorts. He picks up a pen and paper and begins whatever comes to his mind...