Normies and the problems with knowledge

Walk with me, if you will, through the garden of my mind.

At kung fu, we talk a lot about the practical application of the fighting techniques we practice. Something that comes up not infrequently is the concept of the importance of remembering that "normies" (or, "normal people"--those who don't train any kind of self-defense) don't have the same kind of physical conditioning or training that we do. Once you hit a certain point in your training, normal people become, essentially, meat bags at your mercy. Hence the vital importance of training the spirit as well as the body; the ability to use power without the inner discipline to use it effectively and constructively leads to misery.

While it might seem elitist, this concept is absolutely true. Those who spend the requisite blood, sweat, and tears to train any endeavor over years will reap the reward of being much more competent at that then a large majority of the population. It's also true that there's always somebody better than you--always--but the more you train, the more exclusive of a cohort you belong to. This is true of every type of endeavor. Those who study the most--and the most intelligently-- become the best mathematicians; those who train the hardest become the best football players, etc.

The question arises, then, whether being fully "integrated"--that is to say, having optimal physical, cognitive, emotional, spiritual, and social health and living a balanced, highly productive life--works the same way. No matter which culture you look at, wisdom literature often contains the same elements: don't be trapped by attachments to the world, avoid the pride attendant with wealth and success, don't get taken in by society's false beliefs or fads, live the Golden Rule, etc. It stands to reason, then, that the authors of these various texts from around the world all embarked on a similar path of leaving the mundane world and society behind in favor of greater self-awareness, enlightenment, and personal power. They each discovered similar truths about human nature.

From the perspective of a "normal" person, ignorant of and uncaring about the inward journey transcendence, there may seem to be no difference between these various texts and traditions. Yet there are. No one is perfect, and no one agrees perfectly, either. The Buddha and Jesus Christ are perhaps the two most influential religious figures in history--with succeeding generations of their followers claiming that both were, in essence, gods--and yet, from what records we have, their ontology and lifestyles differed, sometimes significantly.

This then raises the question whether one's teachings are superior to the other. Another possibility is that neither set of teachings is superior, but each charts different courses to the same destination--similar to reaching a mountain's peak by hiking up two different faces. And the fact that there are two different ways to answer that question presupposes that there is an answer that is more true than the other; possibly, the exists a third answer that is more true than both of those. There exists a hierarchy of truth, with one proposition being more true than another until you get to one that is True, with a capital "T", and completely and accurately reflects the reality of the situation.

This hierarchy of truth, if you will, lies at the heart of the journey towards enlightenment. Climbing it is like climbing a peak and returns rewards of real, genuine knowledge, earned by the mental toll involved in finding and reconciling paradox and overcoming opposition.

As the adage goes, knowledge is power. Sun Tzu wrote that "if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles". Knowledge of self is gained through the climb up the mountain and leads to a knowledge of human nature. Knowledge of human nature leads to knowledge of others. The higher up the mountain a man climbs, the more knowledge of himself and others he acquired, and he gains more and more power to win in confrontations with others. The question becomes, at that point, how he will use that power. Those who climb high enough behind either fearful tyrants or beloved rulers, known for their wisdom and integrity. Eventually, there is no other option.

This, then, is the first part of the problem with knowledge. Knowledge cannot be divorced from power; therefore, the more knowledge you have the more dangerous you become to those whose agenda is oppositional to yours. Real knowledge cannot be gained without the struggle of overcoming those who seek to break you down and subdue you because they fear you and what you represent. Sometimes the opposition is from another person, sometimes it seems to be coming from the world and society, and sometimes it comes from within you as old habits seek to draw you backwards into a lifestyle you try to leave behind.

The second problem with knowledge involves arrogance. What I've described above is understood by everyone, on an instinctual level. When we genuinely improve, we transcend what we once were. We realize that we are better than we were before, with more knowledge and power, and belonging to a more exclusive group of more enlightened individuals. When we turn our attention outwards after making this realization, that same sense of superiority is applied to others. The feeling of growth becomes a feeling of superiority that must be actively countered if it is to be regulated effectively.

One paradox of transcendence is that arrogance (as a feeling that by its nature attaches you to others in a negative way) is anathema to genuine, balanced self-improvement, yet the path of enlightenment naturally leads to arrogance. Like the physical breath that gives us life produces a substance that cannot sustain life--carbon dioxide--so too does the inward journey produce something that must be released to progress. The soul must be cleansed of this arrogance, and the best way is by serving and loving others. This restores the balance and equality between you and others and frees the soul to climb the mountain even higher.

This, then, is the second problem of knowledge: as a natural byproduct of obtaining it, you develop an arrogant pride that, if not addressed, becomes elitism. Elitism becomes a form of tribalism--be it racial, national, or ideological in nature--that encourages the subjugation of the "less enlightened". This plays out in a variety of ways--slavery, caste and feudal systems, and genocide are all based on this principle. The problem here is that, just like there's always going to be someone better at you in physical fighting, there will always be someone who's better than you at wielding their knowledge, too. Social hierarchies can only exist through various means of coercion, thought control, and physical force--and eventually someone will come along and overthrow the whole system. The only way to keep power indefinitely is not by force or coercion, although that is the easier path to get power immediately.

Knowledge is a weapon more powerful than any bomb, and should be carefully treated as one. It has the seeds of destruction as well as creation inherent in its nature, and should be sought carefully, with prudence.

Leaving Home

In a major way, this transition feels like leaving home.

In most cases, it's when children leave home that they're first exposed to the full pull of society. Leaving the comfort, stability, and routine of parents' care to begin imitating the patterns you saw as a child--or trying to improve upon them--becomes one of the first major testing grounds the individual faces. In a way, everything up until then has been practice. Your own economic, scholastic, religious, social, and other choices were subject to the ultimate veto or approval of your parents. It's when you leave home that your responsibilities and choices begin to become truly your own. You're exposed to greater temptations to misuse your newfound power and the gamut of experiences you're exposed to increases significantly.

I left home soon after high school, and in a way this transition feels similar. It's like I've lived under a sheltering and guiding hand that, although it didn't stop me from acting as I saw fit, was always a powerful force that helped curb and shape behavior. That "hand" was composed partly of an organic interplay between myself and a higher power--which I still identify as the Heavenly Father of Christianity--and the combined influence of religious, social, and family pressures, all of which were heavily influenced by the dysfunctional nature of my emotional state.

It's fascinating how inescapable and powerful the effect our prejudices and precepts have on our perception of the world. We see everything through the lens of our experiences--which are, according to cognitive scientist Donald Hoffman, the "real coin of the realm"; the most basic ingredients of the universe. It is our experiences, and not our perception of the outside world, that form the core of our reality. How clear that lens of perception is depends on how we choose to categorize and interpret our experiences. It's entirely possible to mislabel or misunderstand a negative experience as a positive one, or vice verse, and skew our lens of perception so that we seek out and remain in unhealthy situations. The abused child will grow into an abused and abusive adult, unless they make a conscious decision to strike into the unknown and find a path that, to them, is alien but returns better, healthier results.

When we go out into the world while still under the protective hand of our parents, we are gaining new experiences that begin to shape our reality. We're being prepared for the eventual shifting of all responsibility for our own welfare from our parents to us. It is during that shift itself, however, that new experiences take on a new type of import. The freedom to truly do what one desires can be a powerful drug which leads to stupid decisions and unhappy consequences or, on the flip side, wise decisions and joyful consequences. Whatever happens, the choices made and the results obtained are deeper and of greater import than before.

In a similar way, this transition away from a life defined by rigid rules and regulations to one ruled by the larger world of organic human nature and the cause-and-effect relationship of action and character is like moving away from home into a wider and scarier world. There's more grey, less certainty, and more opportunities for both success and failure.

I am torn, in some ways, about how to understand this transition in my own life. It is far easier to misunderstand one's self and one's development than it is to understand it; the human ego tends to either over- or underestimate itself and its importance. I think I could have made this type of transition earlier in my life, but I doubt it would have gone as well as it is so far (although there's no telling how I'll end up). It's hard even to understand what, exactly, I'm transitioning away from and to: it's not just leaving my old religion; it's leaving the negative things associated with it--but those negative things, for the most part, were projected and attached by me onto my religion in the first place. I was encouraged to make those attachments by my culture, family, and the religious hierarchy itself, true, but ultimately I was the agent who accepted the lens of perception being offered by outside forces. Therefore, it's accurate to say that this journey is one from an old self to a new, future one--one forged by the journey itself, which exists in the present.

This journey, then, is not about leaving or changing so much as it is about cleansing and improving. Identifying and removing that which doesn't work--that which hinders the healthy operation of the cognitive-emotional system--and replacing it with that which does work.

Corrupted medicine is compromised and ineffective, but that doesn't mean non-corrupted medicine also doesn't work. One could change just a few molecules in the chemical makeup of medicine to render it inert. In the same vein, a healthy worldview and an unhealthy one will share many key similarities; it is the differences, not the similarities, that must be altered. Sometimes, the best way to do that is to throw out the compromised pill bottle and get a new one.

Introduction

I need a place to write and share. Too much has been going on in my life; I feel like I'll implode if I don't write it all in an orderly fashion. Some days I feel like if I don't have a medium to share my thoughts, they'll eat me alive. I keep a journal and jot things down, but I feel like I need to put some of these thoughts in a format that others will be able to read.

Recently I've been getting the strong feeling that it's time to make a full transition out of Mormonism. Which sucks, because I still believe the basic tenets. I still believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet and I still believe the Book of Mormon to be genuine scripture, inspired by God. I don't know why I feel like this is the time and didn't feel like it earlier: maybe it's because I have a more stable support system; maybe it's that I needed more time to grieve an entire life path lost. I don't know. I do know that I can no longer stay active to any real degree. I will dearly miss the associations I made in the Church, and hope they'll continue to some degree as I move on. Because it's not the people I have a problem with; it never has been. I think Mormons are wonderful people. I love being a part of that community. It's the institution itself, which treats people like me--principled, informed individuals who won't lie in a temple recommend interview and have too many issues to answer all the recommend questions "correctly"--as less worthy.

Mormons I know might take umbrage with that statement, but it's true: being kept out of the temple because I don't have a "testimony" of the living leaders as Prophets, Seers, and Revelators bars me from getting married in the temple. If I stayed, even if I married a good Mormon girl, we could never be sealed there. That would be a stigma that followed us wherever we went, and it would eat away at me. I won't subject myself or my future family, which I hope one day to have, to that.

Looking back, I can see how much growing up in a highly dysfunctional home and too-conservative religious community painted my view of the world. It's painful, sometimes, to look back at things I said or thought and realize that yes, I really did used to be so provincial and overzealous.

Over the past two months I tried to return again, at least a little bit, but I feel like the time has come to really move on. I need a community, and because of my relationship to the Church it can no longer be there. I talked to my counselor about it a couple weeks ago and was very worried about what would happen. I have no idea where life will take me now. Everything I believed about myself, God, and the universe--my core identity--I formed while a Mormon. My life path--what I would do, whom I would marry, how I would conduct myself, what organizations I would be active in, everything--now has to change. What will happen? Will I lose everything good about myself that I've worked so hard to cultivate? I remember being so anxious about the issue that I started crying on the way home, but I felt a still, small, peaceful voice that has never steered me wrong in the past tell me that it was time to move on.

I don't know what that's going to look like, exactly. I don't know where I'll go. I've started attending other Christian churches in the area, hoping to find one where I can be accepted and loved for who I am and not treated as a second-class citizen. I'm trying to stay open to the possibilities ahead, but I'm very jaded about everything right now. I don't want to become bitter. I don't want to lose what happiness I've found and the gains I've made in fighting a very, very serious case of clinical depression. But I can't stay where I am anymore--doing so will destroy me. And so this blog will chronicle my transition out of the dysfunction of the past and, hopefully, into greater health and happiness.