I often catch myself wondering if a numb blindness would not be better. After all, nearly all humans exist in this state: utilizing only the minimum foresight required to slide over the surface of things, just enough to keep a thin membrane between themselves and the murderous pressures of existence, feeling only the grossest of sense experiences and misinterpreting even those most of the time.
How could they be wrong in this? If this is the rule rather than the exception, then wouldn’t it be more likely that I am the error? Perhaps I am an abomination, a blot upon the species. Is this the real source of my self estimation?—a desperate vanity and compensation for the palpable distance between my own nature and what seems to be the rule?—a mere justification?
It seems the latter is true sometimes. I do compensate out of loneliness and fear that I am too far away, that I am a disfigured outgrowth which should never have been. These are just stories of course. But a thing doesn’t need to be real or true to produce compulsions—in this case justifying and excusing my nature.
But crucially, I also remember: there are no blots or abominations. These are technologies for the willingly blind. I have fallen into the trap of blind moralism: the unidimensional thinking of those who need to conflate what they want with what is absolutely True and Good. But at bottom there are only things which are wanted or unwanted—by someone. There are no absolute or objective values. The whole notion becomes meaningless in the face of one fundamental axiom: necessity in all things; to each thing its own purpose. All else is preference.
Preference of one thing over another, one state or experience over another, one outcome over its alternatives, these uses of a thing over those uses, says nothing about the objective value of any of this—and everything about the subject which does the valuing. This does not render all preference and choice meaningless. It only strips us of the moralistic value assessment, which is of course useful but delusional. Beyond these constraints a path opens to a new, more penetrating form of assessment: all thought, feeling, and action as symptom and indicator. By this light all signs point to the state of the organism and context of broader necessity. One no longer asks if a purpose is right or wrong, but what necessary purpose is played out here. One no longer asks whether a thing has value, but what value it has and to to whom.
Irony: I am permitted this insight by that very quality which makes me the exception, then judge myself according to the rule. I sense so clearly the myopia in all human value-estimations because I recognize this capacity for myopia within myself. This is poison and anathema to most. They cannot even encounter it without shuttering and averting their eyes. And even if they could bear to look, they could not swallow it and keep it down. It is very bitter, and bitter for a long time before any nutrition can be extracted. I cannot explain my affinity for this bitter process of chewing and chewing, but it is there. And its effects can’t be undone.
Still I think to myself, I should not have swallowed this or been able to stomach it, much less benefited from it; I am unnatural and a freak. My impulse to value what I have learned from this process and share it is merely vanity; nobody wants what I have learned here. I am flawed because I cannot be content with sliding over the surface of things, hands over my eyes; I should be able to manage that without complaint. I am a thorn in the side of the otherwise contented multitudes.
Here resides an ancient instinct to be useful to the tribe, to not be a curse, to contribute to the collective productivity and vitality. I actually want to help, and place this value above most other values. I spend a lot of time and effort thinking about the potential effects of what I express and how. Though I value my vision and how deep and far it can penetrate, I don’t want it to be a burden or bane to anyone. I recognize the power of this clarity to inflict great suffering. Thus I am my own most prolific heretic and anti-messiah.
Each year that passes I find a better pitch, a little closer to harmonic balance between these complex and often competing impulses. Collectively as a species we understand these innate impulses well, and recognize that most people share these. We have become more than adept at wielding them as a weapon to normalize, compel compliance, and mitigate the risk of hostile elements emerging which would turn against the interests of civic cooperation. This is one use for my vision. It is needed in the name of civic health—as a countermeasure to these automatic normalizing forces which can become too domineering and dictatorial. For this task a delicate and well-rounded sensitivity is needed. Blind and numb will not do.
At this point I stumble again into my impulse—a sense of pressure to help in a clear and far-seeing way, to play the role of teacher, to offer a conclusion and lesson. But I don’t know what any of this means or how to offer closure. It’s more an act of transparency, a panel of glass offering a view into something incomplete and still in tension.