In so many ways, the world is a terrible place—and that’s normal. You are normal. So many things are "normal" that break our hearts. Normal means dying as a child or being blown up in a bomb shelter. Normal is a teenager getting struck and killed on a highway or overdosing because of some prank that was supposed to be “funny.” Yeah, it was funny...until it wasn’t. Normal now is hating others so much that you’d kill them. So, just to clarify, "normal" as we know it... really needs a makeover. We need a face lift.
To be ordinary is not the same as being normal. There’s a difference. Let’s clear that up. To be ordinary is to be very fortunate—not born with a mental disability or a handicap, not born into an abusive family, and not born into a society where clean drinking water is the stuff of legend. To be ordinary is what most people experience in their daily lives, without any outstanding features or achievements, content.
We all quietly dream of being ordinary—being fortunate, happy, loved, warm, and fed. But, the truly extra-ordinary person is not the one who has experienced no pain; she’s the one who has endured a great deal of it. She’s been lucky enough to have survived with the will to be a witness and keep a record. She wants her experience to mean something in the end. She’s seen things she wishes she hadn’t, understands death, and has looked it in the face. She’s watched people suffer and perish who didn’t deserve it, and she’s asked, “Why?” She has looked for something to have faith in.
When you start seeking real answers in a world so full of pain, that’s when you become truly extra-ordinary. You stop asking “Why me?” or “Why not me?” or “Where’s my stuff?” You stop asking those questions because they become irrelevant. You're never worse off than the person beside you. You begin to look for real reasons to have hope.
To "know" requires a lot of effort. There’s a lot to learn! But, trying to convince others—honestly?—is a waste of time. You can’t convince anyone of anything they don't want to be convinced of. All you can do is answer the questions if finally asked. Then, when someone asks “How are you?” they might actually want an answer beyond “I’m fine.” You could know everything in the world and still not be able to convey it. You could be an angel walking through this world, knowing the answer to every question—and no one would ask. Why? Because they’d just assume you're another ordinary person like everyone else, and your answers are just as useless as their own. It’s like, "Oh, you have wisdom? Cool. Here’s my opinion too." We pretend that we want to know the answers to things, but when they actually show up, we don’t recognize them because—honestly?—we weren’t paying attention.
There are some fundamentals you can never escape. Once you lock those into your mind and truly grasp them, that’s when you begin to understand. For example, there’s only one actual truth. It’s the thing that’s actually true about everything: life, what actually is, why we’re here, what we are, and what our purpose is. There’s only one true answer to that. There are a million speculations and a billion wrong answers, but there’s one thing that’s actually true, whatever that truth may be. And it’s up to us to discover it.
I’ve spent plenty of time assuming that I or others were correct. Now, I really consider anyone's answers. I'm finally to the point where I can begin to discern which ones are actually true. The key? Don’t stop questioning (doubting). Even A.I. doesn’t have all the answers. The wisest of us is still just a foolish human. The only thing that can guarantee you’ll never find the truth is assuming that you already have it.
In order to know whether someone is right, you have to take their position and ask yourself, “What if that were true?” A great seeker—is one who doubts their own answers every day, who constantly reaffirms them, and without bias, reminds themselves of the evidence.
Blind faith is foolishness. Real faith is in the things that you see, the things that you know. Your hope comes from your search, and your faith comes from hopes. Real faith is actually knowing why the light at the end of the tunnel is not an oncoming train.
So, that was my thought for the day. Thanks for listening. Or, you know, reading.
To be ordinary is not the same as being normal. There’s a difference. Let’s clear that up. To be ordinary is to be very fortunate—not born with a mental disability or a handicap, not born into an abusive family, and not born into a society where clean drinking water is the stuff of legend. To be ordinary is what most people experience in their daily lives, without any outstanding features or achievements, content.
We all quietly dream of being ordinary—being fortunate, happy, loved, warm, and fed. But, the truly extra-ordinary person is not the one who has experienced no pain; she’s the one who has endured a great deal of it. She’s been lucky enough to have survived with the will to be a witness and keep a record. She wants her experience to mean something in the end. She’s seen things she wishes she hadn’t, understands death, and has looked it in the face. She’s watched people suffer and perish who didn’t deserve it, and she’s asked, “Why?” She has looked for something to have faith in.
When you start seeking real answers in a world so full of pain, that’s when you become truly extra-ordinary. You stop asking “Why me?” or “Why not me?” or “Where’s my stuff?” You stop asking those questions because they become irrelevant. You're never worse off than the person beside you. You begin to look for real reasons to have hope.
To "know" requires a lot of effort. There’s a lot to learn! But, trying to convince others—honestly?—is a waste of time. You can’t convince anyone of anything they don't want to be convinced of. All you can do is answer the questions if finally asked. Then, when someone asks “How are you?” they might actually want an answer beyond “I’m fine.” You could know everything in the world and still not be able to convey it. You could be an angel walking through this world, knowing the answer to every question—and no one would ask. Why? Because they’d just assume you're another ordinary person like everyone else, and your answers are just as useless as their own. It’s like, "Oh, you have wisdom? Cool. Here’s my opinion too." We pretend that we want to know the answers to things, but when they actually show up, we don’t recognize them because—honestly?—we weren’t paying attention.
There are some fundamentals you can never escape. Once you lock those into your mind and truly grasp them, that’s when you begin to understand. For example, there’s only one actual truth. It’s the thing that’s actually true about everything: life, what actually is, why we’re here, what we are, and what our purpose is. There’s only one true answer to that. There are a million speculations and a billion wrong answers, but there’s one thing that’s actually true, whatever that truth may be. And it’s up to us to discover it.
I’ve spent plenty of time assuming that I or others were correct. Now, I really consider anyone's answers. I'm finally to the point where I can begin to discern which ones are actually true. The key? Don’t stop questioning (doubting). Even A.I. doesn’t have all the answers. The wisest of us is still just a foolish human. The only thing that can guarantee you’ll never find the truth is assuming that you already have it.
In order to know whether someone is right, you have to take their position and ask yourself, “What if that were true?” A great seeker—is one who doubts their own answers every day, who constantly reaffirms them, and without bias, reminds themselves of the evidence.
Blind faith is foolishness. Real faith is in the things that you see, the things that you know. Your hope comes from your search, and your faith comes from hopes. Real faith is actually knowing why the light at the end of the tunnel is not an oncoming train.
So, that was my thought for the day. Thanks for listening. Or, you know, reading.