A Quest for Truth
Everyone
wants to make sense of this crazy world. We pour all of our energy into
creating something that reflects our experience of the universe, or we strive
to ask questions that will unlock the mysteries of the cosmos. I have always
juggled these juxtaposed worldviews, trying to cover all the bases; finding
satisfaction down various avenues. Don’t put you’re eggs in one basket they say
to me.
I have
resided in a fragile schizophrenic superposition of two existences for too long
now: of the dream world and the real world. The dream being to spend my life
travelling and creating art, of following the bright lights of inspiration and
riding the wind till it ends somewhere at the edge of time. Then reality hits
me like painful, hung-over, Monday morning rays of sunshine and I go to my day
job sitting at a desk in a windowless room analyzing grids of numbers till my
eyes water.
How do we
avoid getting lost in the shuffle? How does one strike the balance between
passion and profitability?
I felt the
ocean of doubt and angst rising in my psyche over the course of my 9 Week
research astronomy job. And as the tide pulled back and the crest rose high, I
was atop the frothing water and saw my life spread out on the shore ahead in
every direction and for a moment it was all clear, but clarity is fleeting and
as the wave came crashing down I was lost in a torrent of black (opaque) water.
The salinity stinging my eyes and drying my skin, and when I awoke at 6am on a
vomit stained carpet the phantom pain from my dream carried over into the real
world. I looked around, realizing I was half naked next to a beautiful girl I
had met the night before.
I could
feel my delicate superposition of existence jittering as I shook up the grand
scheme by exercising my free will in a rare moment of impulsivity. I gathered
my clothes and shoes and made the long walk home, with my right eye closed
tightly in pain the whole time (left eye clear as day). Hours later it was still closed and burning
from the inside and my friend brought me to the ER where they told me I had an
ulcer, and could have permanently lost my sight (but I could only laugh because
if felt like I was just beginning to see for the first time). They gave me a
Vicodin to numb the pain, and I was again lost in opaque waters, that were a
little warmer than before but nonetheless swallowed me whole.
It was then
that I decided to pick up and leave: to hit the road, and neglect my
obligations on a quest to find golden music at the end of a glorious rainbow
stretching over 200 miles. We drove for hours, and I watched through one eye as
the rolling green hills of upstate New York gave way to the gritty streets and
smog blurred skyline of NYC. I could already feel my eye being relieved of
pain, more effectively than any medicated drops prescribed by a PhD and deep
pockets ever could. We arrived in the Americana glazed land that is Long Island
just as the sun was disappearing under the Harbor (littered with little bobbing
boats and fancy waterfront homes).
Our
guitarist and front man was deeply ill from an infected cut during a night of being
blackout drunk in NYC. He lay on the couch sweating, eyes glossy with a hint of
green, speaking nonsense in a state of fever and desperation. We carried on
without him, getting to the little dive bar in Amityville just in time for
sound check. We enter and are greeted by burly men, with a dizzying multitude
of tattoos, piercings and dark manly beards. We hopelessly try and arrange an
alternate set-list to no avail, and play an awful sound check that makes the
punk rock pixie chicks in the back giggle and cry (their hair dyed each shade
of the rainbow, bobbing and jumping with every beat of their laughing bodies).
Then with
ten minutes to spare our “fearless leader” arrives, with two-dozen friends and
family in tow. We take the stage and finally I stand there, with blazing purple
lights swirling and shining down on the stage, and both eyes are wide open and
I truly see with full depth in the darkness of the bar. No drums but I hold
down the groove with a tapping foot and lips pursed tightly. The ecstasy and
excitement of performance wash over me through out the set, and the harmonies
of my friends give me shivers that I convert into rhythmic pulses and melodic
landscapes. We function as a single organism in that moment, and for a while
everything is perfect.
It’s
beautiful that the right kind of groove can get both a wide-eyed tie-died hippy
and the somber punk chic person bobbing their heads and smiling a stupid grin
that usually only happens in moments of solitary contemplation. At this point
in time we are all united by the desire to create and the satisfaction of
hearing words and sounds that capture a moment so perfectly that everything at
that moments makes sense, and that the clarity we all feel can be sustained and
shared for a few minutes and beats at a time.
Truth is
everywhere. It is in the flowers that grow towards the sun, it is in the
chemical compounds we ingest to alter our brain chemistry just enough to evoke
an honest laugh. Truth is in the hum of tires on the road, or the giggle of a
child riding a bike for the first time. Truth is in the furnace of distant
stars that churn out the elements that compose our planet, and it is in the
semiconductors that emit and receive electrons to match my frantic keystrokes
at this very moment. Truth can be obscured by our frivolous duties and selfish
frustration.
Science is
a scripture written by devout men that wish to encapsulate truth in the
immortal and universal language of mathematics, to be coveted and used to guide
the understanding of all mankind for eons to come. We stand “on the shoulders
of giants” to look forward and backward at all of human history, trying to
guide ourselves toward truth. I will never turn my back on such an honorable,
selfless pursuit. As my vision has returned I have learned that truth sneaks up
on you when you least expect it. It doesn’t emerge from a lab slide after hours
of scrutiny, but rather it exists around us at all times dancing and vibrating
and waiting to be seen by the right set of eyes. The world does not follow our
equations, but rather equations are written to express that which already
exists.
The
superposition of realities has collapsed to an existence of the here and now,
of this singular point in the timeline of my life and my eyes are finally
clear. I will create and destroy and understand, and as I see a new expanse of
joy unfolding behind my eyelids it transforms the world before my eyes, making
things sparkle and jump with the rhythm of life and music and love.
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