Returning to Ourselves

Throughout our history, we have looked to something behind appearances and everyday concerns as the ultimate truth of reality. We look to that from which all flows, to which all paths lead, and to which all returns: the absolute. What is it? Is it God or gods? Ideas, laws, and logic? Some intangible world we’ll never be able to perceive? Or is it utterly empty?

The Rig Veda, an ancient Indian collection of hymns, is one of the world’s oldest surviving religious texts. The majority of it is estimated to have been written between 3 and 4 millennia ago. In it, we find hymns like this:

“Who made firm the wavering earth, who settled the quaking mountains,
Who measured out the wide atmosphere, who propped up the heaven?
He, O folk, is Indra.

Who, having smashed the serpent, let flow the seven rivers…
Who created the fire between two stones, winner of booty in battles?
He, O folk, is Indra.

The terrifying one about whom they ask, “Where is he?”
And they say of him, “He does not exist!”
He diminishes the wealth of the enemy like gambling-stakes. Believe in him!
He, O folk, is Indra.

Who invigorates the humble, the feeble, the hard-pressed priest and poet…
Without whom peoples do not win, whom they call for help as they fight,
Who has become a match for everyone, who is the mover of the immovable,
He, O folk, is Indra.”1

This hymn echoes themes found in many religions. Change the words a little, and it would not feel out of place in many places of worship today. One wonders whether the sentiments expressed therein are perhaps as old as humankind.

These verses are evocative of our fundamental wonder about the world. As we work our way through life, we sometimes see a great mystery; Why is it that things are as they are? Where did it all come from? Our existence is also often marked by struggle and uncertainty. As we forge ahead, we want to believe that the universe is on our side; that we will prevail; that there is hope for the weak or the struggling.

As atheism becomes increasingly common, it’s also important to note that these themes aren’t exclusive to religious belief. In modern society, many look to scientific discovery to satisfy their wonder about the nature and origin of the universe, and put their faith in technology, social structures, and scientific research to ensure a long and prosperous life.

But where do these questions come from? Perhaps we can find the answer in ourselves. What do religion, philosophy, and scientific discovery have in common? In them, we have always had that desire to make various aspects of the world absolute, a desire to be secure and steady in our multitude of judgments about the world; to trace them back to their source. We seek to attribute what we experience to a higher or more original aspect. We wonder, “why?”—and we need answers. This we will call certainty. We seek certainty, we argue with one another about it, and ultimately we just want to understand what is happening around us.

Why do we seek certainty? Perhaps because uncertainty is present in our very nature, and we are only running away from it. We were born into this world—all of us. From nothing, we came to abide in this world. And we will all die, returning to nothing. Always and in every moment we are cast into a world of possibilities, possibilities over which we exert some degree of control, of which we are acutely aware, and for which we have fought, laughed, cried, loved, and died for on the playing field of existence since the earliest of times. These possibilities will always be a part of us, and they will always be uncertain. How could such a world not be at times confusing, bewildering, or otherwise thought-provoking?

We dwell in the past, we dream about the future, and we analyze our present situation in the world around us. Beneath our judgments which sift through our everyday existence lies our simple abiding in the world. We don’t often think about this more fundamental part of our being. When we do, these most serious of questions arise. We may not think about it often, but we cannot escape it.

Our fundamental uncertainty issues from our simple abiding. Our abiding is primal truth. As long as we are, we are cast into truth; we are prisoners of the possibilities that remain for us. When this ongoing casting becomes manifest, it can be shocking; often we run away from this vertigo of our primal truth. As we become experienced, we fill in our abiding with all of our occupations, feelings, judgments, and the things we believe (or are told) will make us happy or prosperous. We suppose that by filling it in, we are becoming more secure in our existence—quelling that vertigo. But we can only ever cover it up; we cannot deny truth. By establishing these lesser truths, we take ourselves away from our primal truth, and we forget to return to it; we forget what it means to be a human being at all, sometimes. We get trapped by our past, we get consumed by the future, and we get lost while making our way through our everyday lives. How do we return to ourselves?

You might wonder if the absolute can be thought at all. Perhaps it is something we can point at, but never really know. After all, whether the absolute is gods, God, logic, ideas, laws, emptiness, or something entirely different, it may be beyond our capacity to know, perceive, or even conceive of in the first place. This may be right, in the sense that it can elude our everyday representational thought and speech. Perhaps the absolute is just something driving this thought onward, dancing around it and guiding it forward, yet always staying beyond its fingertips.

But while it may not be expressed so easily, it can certainly be experienced. We are experiencing it every moment of every day; but we forget. We cover it up with lesser truth—with that multitude of judgments.

We must return to ourselves—to our simple abiding—to find truth. We must find and cherish the moments when all of life’s distractions slow down. Take these moments as a time of learning, a time to rediscover your fundamental connection with the world, a time to break the spell that has enchanted us and has called us forward this whole time, while taking us away from ourselves.

Carry this fundamental connection into your everyday life. Instead of slowing down distractions, make them not distractions at all. Your occupations, thoughts, and feelings are important; but make them your own. Your abiding is your own. You came from nothing into this world, and into nothing you will return. Remember that fundamental connection with the world. Do not be afraid of the vertigo of our existence; that very vertigo is your pure and breathtaking freedom making itself known. You are at core unbound by any preconception, construct, or code. You are here—we are here—together.

When we remember this, when we truly experience the simple beauty of our abiding in this world, we are able to discover who we really are as individuals. We are able to become our own heroes; to place our stake in what we truly wish to fight for, laugh and cry over, love, and die for.

It is our greatest gift. What will you do with it?