What is Absolute Certainty?
I couldn’t believe it. Well, I suppose I could. In the unwrapped present before me was a note—a promise?—that my parents would be getting me tickets to see The Book of Mormon. I couldn’t believe it because: 1) I love musicals; 2) I love religious satire; 3) I love Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I’d get to experience the newest evolution in my idols’ creative trajectory, one that married all the things I love about live performances along with the things I love about social commentary. I could believe it because: this live performance experience had become an annual tradition for my family. We saw Wicked, Blue Man Group, and The Phantom of the Opera already; The Book of Mormon was going to be the cherry on top of a fantastic series. I couldn’t wait.
Then, I did wait. And wait. And wait some more. I can’t say for sure if it was bad timing, a limited booking window, or exorbitant pricing…Whatever the case may be, The Book of Mormon left Chicago without me. When it returned, life had unfolded in different ways for the 3 of us. I think I brought it up in jest, but it was glossed over just as quickly. I was losing belief. Would I ever see the show? I mean, I could have purchased my own tickets or gone to see the show with someone else, but it seemed more appropriate to bring it up sarcastically to my parents whenever some broken promise would surface in conversation. For example, my dad got my mom roll-out cabinet organizers for Christmas years later; the promise, at least, along with a brochure of potential configurations. Much like the musical, my mother’s shelves never happened. Whenever she complained to me about the lack of follow through, I would slip in how I’m still waiting for The Book of Mormon tickets, holding my breath till the day I’m sitting in the theater and watching the curtain open. She’d trip over her words, we’d laugh, and then move on with our day…without our tickets or organized cabinets.
Unfortunately for my mother, my belated Christmas gift was delivered before hers; we decided to see The Book of Mormon Thanksgiving weekend. Still, my belief wavered leading up to the actual event as we looked over seating charts, pricing, and show times. I was convinced something would fall through. I’d be left feeling empty, disappointed. I went so far as to look at the printed tickets that sat on our dining room table the week leading up to the show, not sure if I could believe what I was seeing. This is it! The show you’ve been waiting to see for 6 years! Then, the day arrived. Despite some frantic Chicago driving in search of nearby parking, we made it just in time to our seats. I was here. I could believe again.
“ORLANDO!!!” Elder Price’s dreams, beliefs, and desperation were ringing through his voice, on display, as the musical opened. He was the Mormon; the one who was going to change the world for the better in the image of Joseph Smith, whom Elder Price believed with absolute certainly to be the prophet. Not to spoil the musical for those who haven’t seen it (I highly recommend it, for what it’s worth), but Price’s certainty is shattered when he is confronted by his new environment where the local people belt out “Hasa Diga Eebowai” (in English: f*ck you, God). It’s shocking at first to hear, particularly if you are/were a church-goer, but I was in awe of Stone and Parker’s brilliance as they weaved together this story. Price and his Mormon peers struggle through the harsh realities of daily life that are impossible to gloss over with someone' else’s ideas on how to live better, especially when those ideas are far removed from the issues of today in third world countries. Again, I don’t want to ruin it, but by incorporating a meta discussion on creative expression to explain religion and metaphor, I was a firm believer again by the end. It wasn’t that I needed to commit to a God through some religious lens, I just needed absolute certainty in myself, for myself.
If you check out my homepage and take a look at the dates of when articles are posted, you will notice several gaps: March to June, July to October…it may surprise you to learn that I actually set a goal to post an article a week but never followed through with it. I ended up lacking belief in what I was writing, opting instead to step away from the page. Much like Elder Price, the fragile threads of my belief created problems as I faced more challenges in everyday life. When I opened the pages of The 72 Names of God to Absolute Certainty, Yehuda Berg hit all the right notes: “It’s true that when hardship strikes, doubts begin to surface in our minds. We become uncertain about the reality of the Creator. We question the justice in the universe. We fear for the future. We point the finger of blame at others, or toward the heavens. But when we invoke the power of certainty, all these negative sensations fade away like fog shrouding a steadfast mountain” (141). All of that sounds right, but I’m getting tripped up on that one part: “We become uncertain about the reality of the Creator.” I want the benefits of certainty, but I’m not sure what that means for me and my belief in the Creator.
A good place to start, I believe, is a clarification between belief and certainty. New World Encyclopedia might belt it out best: “Belief is the state of mind in which an individual is convinced of the truth or validity of a proposition or premise regardless of whether they have adequately proved or attempted to prove their main contention. Certainty is the state of mind in which an individual is convinced of the validity, truthfulness, or evidence of a proposition or premise…certainty implies having valid evidence or proof.” Ah, so if I’m to gain absolute certainty, I must find some spectacular evidence of the Creator. When I think about what Price turned to when he needed proof—the Book of Mormon—I’m reminded of my experience with the Bible. More often than not, I felt like Jennifer Love Hewitt’s character in I Know What You Did Last Summer, spinning around wildly, looking up at the sky and screaming, “What are you waiting for, huh?! What are you waiting for?!?” to see if God had anything to say for itself in response to Biblical condemnation. In other words, my certainty of the Creator will not come from a sacred text like it does for others. So where will it come from?
I hear a catchy tune in Carl R. Rogers A Way of Being: “It was the gradually formed and tested hypothesis that the individual has within himself vast resources for self-understanding, for altering his self-concept, his attitudes, his self-directed behavior—and that these resources can be tapped if only a definable climate of facilitative psychological attitudes can be provided” (49). This makes sense when harmonized with Berg; the Creator created us to reach this heightened level of awareness, to live the absolute certainty of our souls. If I can autotune out my negativity and doubt, I will recognize the power within and see how it aligns with the universe. But! Roger’s “definable climate” is based in empathy, acceptance, and authenticity. My certainty will have to persevere through all environments in order to be fully realized. Ok…here is my hypothesis: if I embrace and routinize my spirituality consistently, then I will write more freely, willingly regardless of the climate. To test this, I will look at how my daily practice and overall certainty has been impacted by internal and external variables since I started writing. I can’t say that this will be a conclusive finding as I consider the things I cannot control; however, if I can show at least some evidence for the Creator’s existence, then I can pave a clearer path toward absolute certainty. I’m sure of it.
A DAY IN THE LIFE
What does MATTHEW’s day-to-day look like? Do I sit in The Thinker’s pose all day looking out the window wondering what is God? Or spend all my time outside meditating? No. I haven’t fully adopted a spiritual routine that drives me forward, unfortunately, and I’m not sure what the best practice is for someone who is on the fence about which Creator is the right Creator. When I do nothing, I struggle to find the fearlessness within to take more self-directed creative risks, resulting in lots of distraction and censorship. I step away from the page, unwilling to see myself as “an individual with vast resources.” Instead, I accept the negativity that comes with doubt, leaving me a quivering mess looking to feel alive through some means of external validation. Now, that’s not to say that the entirety of my day is spent mindlessly consuming; however, there are periods of time when I believe in drugs, sex, sugar, alcohol, TV, etc. more than I do myself and/or the Creator.
This is trouble, obviously. Thinking back to a time when those addictions took center stage, I see that my relationship with the Creator was the most toxic. I was like the chorus in The Book of Mormon singing out “F*ck you, God!” whenever some new barrier or doubt surfaced. When I started this blog, it was an attempt to reconnect; I no longer wanted to be stuck in that negative mindset. I wanted to free myself from the doubt, from the shame. After some hits and misses with the Creator following my rock-bottom moment, I remember coming to terms with my loss of faith through a drug-induced revelation, followed by a drug-induced conversation with a friend about launching this blog. We discussed how it would help me heal the existential scars from the past and live a more authentic life in the present. Her words of encouragement, combined with more drugs, gave me the courage to write Survivor as well as my About page. It was the first real step toward absolute certainty, yet it was lacking the sober legs to stand on.
I continued writing and posting for a few months, though I remained hovering around the surface of my topics, too afraid to really delve into the complexities of my soul and share them openly as I struggled with addiction. When I left Chicago, my writing began to shift along with my consciousness. I didn’t want to rely on my vices to get me through the day. I started testing spiritual practices and notating which brought me to the page to explore versus which had me hightailing back toward validation. Through this exercise, I began to recognize some patterns. As I reached deeper within to find peace and integrity, I faced greater resistance to certainty. It seemed like something in me wanted to fight against the Creator, against accepting myself as a being worthy of having a Creator. When I was able to calm my mind, my behavior shifted from mindless consumption to mindful expansion; I recognized how I was related to the Creator and what my creative expression meant to the universe. When I wasn’t able to calm my mind, I was pounding down the door of some vice and begging for it to take me back to feel good again. I felt torn in half, but despite the negativity and doubt that surfaced through the process, I wrote; as a result, my certainty continued to evolve.
Then, I was alone for 45 days with my thoughts, my fears, my Creator. Though I took a break from posting publicly, I journaled at least 3 times a day; I adopted a routine that included meditation, reflection, and creative expression. At the suggestion of Julia Cameron via The Artist’s Way, I even developed my own prayer that I repeated out loud every day. How did it make me feel? Well, if you’ve followed along the posts in “No Service,” you’ll see that the experience took me to new heights, new depths, and new dimensions in my relationship with the Creator. It most certainly wasn’t easy; doubt and negativity were never far behind when I left the door open for them to cloud my head space. Still, I (re)discovered the intersection between my self, my Creator, and my certainty, and I was able to do it without falling back too hard into addictive behavior. I felt whole, like I was ready for any challenge that came my way.
I returned home with lots of ideas in mind, but my first post took nearly 2 months to write as I settled back in to the chaos of everyday life. After I dipped into many of the addictive behaviors that littered my past. After I experienced doubt again. I’ve written a lot about the anxieties, fears, and unresolved trauma I faced since that time, but I haven’t delved too much into how it affected my certainty. I’d say the past year has been like a roller coaster: the relationship with my self and my Creator reaching high, dipping low, and spinning out in every imaginable direction. This is also a metaphor for my writing: moments of mindfulness and creativity bursting forth from periods of soul-numbing inactivity. If only there were a way to be consistently certain of the Creator!
Oh wait…there is. Turning back to the “moral of the story” I gathered from The Book of Mormon, I recognize how I’m tasked with bringing to life my own universe through creative expression. It’s not about how it fits into a particular set of religious beliefs or spiritual practices; rather it’s about finding my own path to absolute certainty and acceptance based on my experiences. By setting out on this path, my writing has taken new shape; I’ve allowed myself to go further than I ever imagined I would. Facing people after I post remains the biggest challenge, but my certainty of the Creator (within and without) allows me to continue taking the necessary creative risks to reach my destiny. When I turn my back on the Creator for whatever reason (I don’t have time, I’m scared, no one will accept me), I begin to lose the connection to this inner universe; I end up feeling isolated and purposeless. In 2019, my goal is to explore the vices that make it so difficult to “say no" to what I believe in my heart; I seek to uncover what is hiding beneath my addictions so I can gain more certainty in my self and the Creator. Where will this lead me? I can’t say for certain, but what I do know is that I’ve never felt so sure of anything else before. That is a blessing and a promise.